thinking of you
by FirstHeartBroken
Summary: when Elena Gilbert is about to be married to the man she should want to be with, all she can think about is his charming, wild older brother—the one who likes to love 'em and leave 'em and the one who broke her heart.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is pretty AU, but in character. **

**Set 6 years after high school, Elena was in a relationship with Damon for two years (when she was 16-18) before he left town. She's now 24.**

**Stefan's still 17, they're engaged to be married.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter One

_He kissed my lips  
I taste your mouth  
He pulled me in  
I was disgusted with myself_

_'Cause when I'm with him  
I am thinking of you, thinking of you  
What you would do if you were the one  
Who was spending the night  
Oh, I wish that I was looking into your eyes._

**Yearning**: _noun; _a persistent, often wistful or melancholy desire; a longing

For as long as Elena can remember, she has believed in soul mates. That one person, connected to you, the missing piece of your heart. In her early teens, she was reckless and a little naive. Of course back then, she thought every boy that took her fancy was the boy she would spend the rest of her life with. She would look into the eyes of each of her boyfriends and foolishly wonder: Are you the one? Have I found you?

When she hit 16, after what felt like countless disappointments, she began to wonder if the world conspires to keep soul mates apart. Surely that must've been why she hadn't found hers?

But then, months later, she met someone who changed her view completely.

He was cynical and cruel and sarcastic and charming... and she fell completely in love with him.

Of course, after a while, she began to realize that maybe the world conspires to keep soul mates apart for a reason—that sometimes it's better if the souls never find each other at all.

Her best friend, Bonnie, said it was a mistake right from the start—that she couldn't see clearly because she loved him too much. And she was right. She hadn't realized it then, but she was young and he had seduced her with charm and sex and she was blind—powerless, helpless.

He loved her; she has no doubt of that. But sometimes she thinks that was his downfall.

Damon isn't like her. He isn't a romantic and he doesn't believe in soul mates, not like she does. His heart is dark, black even, and trust doesn't come easy for him. He never bought her flowers, or took her to the movies, or met her parents, or did anything a normal boyfriend would do. He abused her, he ravaged her, he ruined her, and he loved her _too much. _Sometimes she thinks he would've ripped the world apart just to get to her.

He was dangerous, and part of her thinks that's why she loved him.

Then she grew close to his brother.

Stefan makes her feel different. It's not like what she and Damon had, not even close. But she does love him, him and Damon, so much that sometimes she thinks this much love will tear her in two.

"Elena?" Bonnie's voice brings her back to reality, "Are you okay?"

She turns around and a gasp catches in her throat when she sees what Bonnie's got draped over arm. Her gaze follows Elena's and she smiles, as if she had forgotten it was there.

"Oh, yeah it arrived." Her smile is infectious and Elena thinks she's more excited than she is. Bonnie walks over, reaches up and places the hanger on the door, smoothing the fabric of the pure white dress. She admires it for a moment before turning back to Elena.

"Elena, it's perfect." She gushes.

Elena tries her best to smile, "Thanks Bonnie."

She waves a dismissive hand and tells her not to worry about it. But she is thankful. Bonnie has been there for her for as long as she can remember. She knows that in the months to come, she'll need her more than ever.

"Why don't you try it on?" Her eyes lighten up with excitement.

Elena feels her cheeks redden and she nods in agreement, before reaching out and taking the dress from her hands.

She walks into the bathroom and drapes the dress over the side of the bathtub. She walks over to the sink and leans over it, before looking into the mirror and frowning at her reflection.

She tries to smile, but finds it impossible. This isn't her. She knows she'll try as hard as she can, but she'll never be the perfect bride. She's not meant to play this part.

Her eyes fill with tears and she struggles to hold them back. If she were to truly be herself, it would break Stefan's heart.

She doesn't recognize her own reflection.

She doesn't even know who she is anymore.

She inhales steadily and shakes her head, telling herself to calm down and stop overreacting. She loves Stefan. She wants to be with him, always.

So why does she feel like she's making a huge mistake?

_Stop it._

_I love Stefan. I love Stefan. I love Stefan_. It becomes her mantra as she takes the dress out of it's covering.

She wastes no time in undressing and stepping into the silky material, pulling it up and letting it slide over her body like a blanket of white velvet.

Standing in front of the body length mirror, she glances a look at herself, only for a moment, before calling for Bonnie.

"Can you help me with the zip?" She holds the dress up by her chest, and turns her head to look at her.

Bonnie immediately takes the zipper and pulls it up effortlessly, smoothing the fabric before turning her round. She steps back and her mouth falls open slightly.

"Elena..." She breathes; her hand over her heart, "You look beautiful."

She smiles at her, a watery smile that says either, _"I can't believe this is finally happening", _or _"What the hell am I doing?"_

To be honest, she thinks they're both a fair representation of what she's feeling right now.

"Elena, what's wrong?" Bonnie's eyebrows pull into a concerned frown.

It's unfortunate, how much she knows her.

Elena looks into her worried eyes and knows it's useless denying it, "I don't know..." She mutters, rubbing a tired hand over my forehead, "I feel... weird."

She tips her head to the side, "How so?" She asks gently.

Elena reaches behind her and gathers the material of her long dress, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. Bonnie sits down next to her and grabs the box of tissues on the counter.

Elena lets out an embarrassed breath before shaking her head, waving her hands about and blubbering about being "so stupid."

Bonnie doesn't say anything and just passes her a tissue, which she uses to not so gracefully blow her nose.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, honey?"

She sighs, "I don't know, Bon." She runs a hand through her tangled hair, "I'm just... confused."

"About the wedding?" Bonnie asks, a frown on her face.

What is she meant to say?

That she's having second thoughts about marrying Stefan, the man of her dreams, because all she can think about is his brother?

_God. This is a mess._

"It's nothing." She insists, "Just cold feet."

But Bonnie's not fooled, "Elena, you're my best friend. I know you. And I know something's wrong." She takes her hand, "You can tell me anything, you know that."

She says she won't judge, that whatever it is, she'll understand.

But she won't.

Because it's _Damon._

Damon, who was bad for her in every way and who tore her apart, leaving Bonnie to pick up the pieces and help her start over again. What would she think if she knew Elena still missed him? That even after all he put her through, he's the one she goes to bed thinking about… the one who's on her mind when she wakes up.

She knows how Bonnie feels about him.

She won't understand, how could she?

"Honestly, Bonnie. It's just… nerves."

"Stop lying to me." The black-haired witch's voice isn't as gentle anymore, "I want to help you Elena, and I can't do that if you keep pushing me away."

She purses her lips, feeling her eyes fill up again.

_Tell her_, one voice whispers.

_She hates him,_ another one reasons, _she'll never understand._

Grrreat. Now she's talking to herself. She really has lost it.

She glances at Bonnie and a small sob falls from her lips, "I'm scared." She whispers, bowing her head and letting the tears fall.

"Oh Elena!" Bonnie exclaims, putting her arm around her friend's bare shoulders. Elena buries her head in Bonnie's hair and sniffles, her shoulders shaking with the force of her tears.

They stay like that for a few minutes before Bonnie asks what Elena's scared of and she doesn't know where to begin.

She's scared she'll always feel this way. She's scared she'll never be enough for Stefan, that she'll always be withdrawn and distant. She's scared that she'll always be haunted by _his_ face—so beautiful, but deadly. But most disturbingly, she's scared—no, terrified—that she'll always burn for him.

She can't keep all of this to herself. It's too much.

"Bonnie..." She lifts her head from her shoulder and fights the urge to hide.

"Go on," Bonnie rubs her back supportively, "You can tell me."

She bites her lip, her heart pounding.

"_I can't stop thinking about him._" She whispers.

She doesn't need to ask. They both know all too well who _he _is. Elena can see the judgment already beginning to seep onto her face.

"I'm sorry but... _how _can you feel that way? Have you forgotten what he did to you? How he treated you? Elena he _used _you! He destroyed you! He's a monster."

Her words cut her deeper than she would've imagined.

Because she's right. Damon did use her. He treated her like he was beneath him, he made sure she fell in love with him, and then he left her.

"I know Bonnie." She whispers as she casts her eyes to the floor, her long hair becoming a curtain, hiding her burning face. She looks up at her best friend with tears clouding her vision, "I just miss him." She whispers honestly and tearfully.

Bonnie removes her arm from around her and it hurts, because Elena thinks _that's it. _She thinks she's crazy—but instead of walking away, Bonnie takes her hand and forces her to meet her eyes.

"I know what it's like to love someone who is completely wrong for you." She tells the distraught bride-to-be, the intensity in her eyes shining and her fingers tracing small, soothing circles on the back of Elena's hand, "I know what's it's like to hate someone so much it makes you quiver, but also love them until you feel like it's gonna kill you. I know that you felt strongly for Damon, that you still do, and I wish I could make that go away, but love isn't rational, Elena. But he's not here... and you are... and it's time to let go."

"I don't know what to do, Bonnie." She whispers in despair, "I know you're right, I know you are. It's just so... _hard._"

She laughs, "When isn't it?"

"Do you think you could do some sort of anti-love spell?" She pouts, only half-joking.

The corners of the talented witch's lips curl up into a lopsided smirk, "It doesn't work that way, honey. I'm not going to say that I understand how it feels to be torn between two vampire brothers—" She stops to scoff at how ridiculous it sounds, "—but I do know that you won't feel this way forever, Elena. After the wedding, Stefan will turn you and you'll be immortal and over time the pain _will _go away_. _Things will get better. But it won't be easy, and it won't be quick. You loved Damon, Elena, and you'll go on loving him. But you'll go on living too."

Elena feels the tears wet her cheeks and she shrugs softly, shaking her head. "I don't know how."

"You don't need to." Bonnie insists wisely, "That'll all work itself out. In the end, there'll be people who need you—like Stefan and Jenna and Jeremy… and you'll be there for them—because that's who you are."

Elena looks at her, maybe not comforted by that so much as appreciative of the simple truth of it.

"How'd you get to be so smart?" She nudges her with her shoulder and blows into another tissue.

Bonnie shrugs, sidestepping the question. "You're gonna be okay, honey. You have an amazing fiancée who is _so good _to you. He loves you."

She sighs, looking down at her hands and fiddling with her fingers, "I know he loves me and I love him too. Bonnie, I love him so much and I _do _want to marry him. But it's gonna take some time for me to heal. I know everything that Damon did... because he did it to me. You have no idea how much I want to hate him."

She feels herself beginning to cry again, and Bonnie reaches out for her, holding Elena tightly to her chest as she cries out all her anguish and devastation and the unfairness that weighs her down.

Somewhere during the heartache and tears, she has what you could call an epiphany. She needed this, to get it all out.

She knows what she has to do now...

She has to let him go.

When Damon left her, he left with so much up in the air, so much unsaid and unresolved. Ever since then, she's been changed irrevocably.

She'll never forget Damon Salvatore, that much she's sure of... but she can't hold onto the past anymore.

Damon is gone. And he's not coming back.

But she knows who she is now. She's the sort of person that wants to be with someone who'll love her forever, someone who'll take care of her and want her just the way she is. She doesn't want to be a drama junkie anymore. She doesn't have a twisted urge to turn Damon into someone completely different—to tame him. She loves Stefan, and she doesn't want any more drama.

She also doesn't want to be a victim anymore, injured by the actions of the man she loved.

Because even if a blow delivered by the object of your affection inflicts the damage, the time comes when we must pick ourselves up and continue on our journey.

And that's what she'll do. With Stefan. She'll marry him and he'll turn her and they'll spend the rest of eternity together—him trying to be the best possible person he can be and her desperately trying to forget everything that Damon ever was.

For better or worse.

* * *

**Song: Thinking of You by Katy Perry**

**A/N: Obviously that's not gonna happen. We'll be meeting Damon next! **

**The story's already written, I'll be updating every Tuesday.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for the support!**

** I'm going to try and make it as in character as possible, and I want it to be clear that although Elena obviously pines for Damon, she does love Stefan. If she didn't... well that wouldn't make for a good story really.**

**Don't own anything, obviously, apart from a drool-worthy poster of Ian Somerhalder from his 'Boone' days. **

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Two

_I thought that if I didn't go and play  
The sadness would get bored and go away  
I thought if only I could try and change  
Then all my pain would be in yesterday_

_But it's true I'm still blue  
But I finally know what to do  
I must quit, I must quit...  
you_

Sometimes she wonders what Damon would say if she knew she was engaged to his brother.

She can imagine cold indifference, hurtful aloofness, even fierce jealous-laden anger.

But the one thing she can't imagine is despair.

If their roles were reversed, she can only _imagine_ the complete heartache she would feel. She would throw things, pout and cry. She would experience the most pain she had ever felt.

But Damon… Damon doesn't get sad. He doesn't experience the pain we all do… and she doesn't know whether that's because he shuts it off or because he literally _can't._

His heart can never be broken, because it was never whole to begin with. It always has been, and always will be, the darkest thing she will ever experience.

Stefan however… Stefan has a heart of gold. He's patient and kind and never hurtful. He looks at her and he doesn't see Katherine—he sees Elena. He once vowed to love her forever, and she has no doubt of that.

Would Damon love her forever?

_Stop it. _She thinks. _That doesn't matter. It doesn't make any difference. Stop thinking about him._

"Hey Elena, do you have any earrings I can borrow?"

Her voice is melodic and high pitched and Elena turns to face her.

"Sure Caroline." She stands up and walks over to her dresser, "What sort?"

"Well," She drawls, "I want something dressy and elegant, something graceful and diamond-y, but not something that's going to make me look like a transvestite hooker."

Elena laughs under her breath and her eyes catch sight of a pair of small, dangly diamonds that Stefan bought her for her seventeenth birthday.

She holds them in the palm of her hand and before a smile can form on her lips, she's haunted by a memory from six years ago.

"_What are those?" He scoffs, snatching the earrings from my hands._

_I bite my lip, "They're a birthday present." I reach for them but he holds them above his head, knowing that I can't reach._

_When I huff in annoyance and cross my arms, he raises an eyebrow and brings his hand down. He opens his palm and stares at the diamonds with a look I can't discern._

"_Where'd he get them? A yard sale?" He laughs at his own joke and my mouth falls open, wondering how he knew who they were from._

"_Damon," His name falls from my lips in an exasperated sigh, "Don't be unkind."_

"_No seriously," He scrutinizes them, "They're ridiculous. They look like the sort of junk jewellery a five year old girl would wear."_

"_Now you're just being petty." I roll my eyes and snatch the earrings from his hand. I turn to walk away but his vamp reflexes are too fast for me. Before I can catch a breath, he's standing behind me, the hard planes of his body pressed flush against my back._

_I involuntarily gasp and arch into him slightly. I can feel his smirk against my hair and I curse myself for having any kind of reaction to him. I hate it. I hate how he knows how he makes me feel and how that thought thrills him like no other._

_He slides his hand up to my throat and his other rests at my hip. I feel him against the small of my back and my eyes threaten to roll up into my head._

"_I don't want you accepting gifts from him." He whispers huskily into my ear._

_I bite my lip and rest my head against his shoulder, "It's my birthday." I whimper pathetically._

_He presses himself harder against me, as if to show me who I belong to, and I can't fight the moan that falls from my lips._

"_I don't care. The only Salvatore who should be giving you presents is me." His grip tightens around my neck possessively, and he bows his head, placing a heated kiss to my bare shoulder._

_His hand slips from around my neck and fingers the expensive necklace he had previously purchased for me. Receiving jewellery from both Salvatore brothers… maybe I am Katherine Pierce after all._

"_You belong to me." He states and it kills me that he's right. I am his. I think I always will be. "This is the only thing that is worthy of you wearing it." He starts to leave kisses along the length of my neck and although his mouth is cool, the trail he leaves behind on my heated flesh is not._

_My head lolls to the side to give him better access and my eyes fall shut, "You can't buy me." I insist, but it's half-hearted._

_He chuckles—a sound so drenched in desire and charm and sex—that I have to squeeze my thighs together._

_He turns me around and a small smile reaches his perfect lips._

"_Why would I need to buy you?" He smirks dangerously, "I already have you."_

_And as he places a bruising kiss to my lips, I fight the urge to say what's really on my mind._

_You'll always have me._

The memory is surprisingly fresh in her mind—she can still remember everything. The way his cold hands felt like fire against her skin. The way his lips molded to hers perfectly, as if they were just made to fit together…

She shakes her head and glances another look at the earrings.

They aren't expensive; she's always known that. The diamonds aren't real and the silver on them has dulled considerably. But they are beautiful, and she knows the trouble Stefan went through to get them. After living for centuries, the Salvatore's are never short of money. But unlike Damon, Stefan is unwilling to just compel and take—he wants to earn his living, really work for it… another example of his good heart.

For a young boy (at least that's what he was to everyone else, in reality 174 is hardly _young_), these were probably 3 months pay for him…

She should've known back then that he was in love with her.

What other boy would go to all that trouble to buy a present for his brother's girlfriend?

Damon saw it before she did. He knew. She thinks that's why he kept her so close to him, becoming angry and jealous whenever she spent time with Stefan.

He thought he was going to lose her.

But in the end... it was his own actions that led to their downfall.

She wants to offer these to Caroline but she knows she won't appreciate their beautiful simplicity. As she rummages through her jewellery box, she attempts to make conversation.

"So," She begins, "What's the special occasion?"

"I'm going out with D—" She stops herself and looks startlingly like a deer caught in headlights. Elena mirrors her previous expression by raising an eyebrow and she clears her throat awkwardly.

"Daniel. I'm going to dinner with Daniel."

"Who's Daniel?" She wonders out loud.

She maintains her composure, but Elena hasn't forgotten the slip. "Just some guy I met."

She doesn't know what's going on, but she figures she has more important things to worry about. So she picks out all the earrings she has and lays them out on the wooden dresser.

She sees one pair catch Caroline's eye and she seems to forget her previous indiscretion.

She picks them up, "Oh Elena! These are amazing!" She exclaims and holds one to her ear, gushing over her reflection in the mirror. She sees her blows her reflection a kiss in a move so... _Caroline,_ she fights the urge to roll her eyes.

Caroline reaches for her and pulls her into a hug.

"Thank you Elena."

* * *

That night Elena wears the earrings.

Stefan notices immediately and she smiles. Damon never noticed if she wore the jewellery he bought.

_Stop it! There's something seriously wrong with you. Stop comparing them._

The night goes by quietly and comfortably and before she knows it, she's in his bed—her bed. It's been two years since she moved in with Stefan, but the Salvatore Boarding House still doesn't feel like home to her... probably because it's haunted by Damon. She's plagued with the knowledge that he's been in every room, touched every surface, touched her on every surface.

"You're so beautiful." Stefan murmurs against her bare flesh and it feels good, _so good, _but when he kisses her lips, she has to pull back, because she tastes _his _mouth.

A tangled web, that's what she's weaving.

He starts to trail kisses down her neck and she purses her lips, her eyes flickering around the room in an attempt to look anywhere, _anywhere, _but at him. She doesn't think she can handle looking into his eyes and seeing the love that reflects in them.

She shakes her head. She can do this. Stefan's made love to her countless times, so why is she feeling like this? It's like as soon as he proposed, she's been plagued by memories and lost feelings about Damon. She guesses she shouldn't be surprised. Marriage is... _marriage. _It's the biggest commitment you can take... and afterwards Stefan will turn her and... that's _it. _There's no going back after that. She'll be his forever. Damon will never come back. He'll never hold her or kiss her or love her.

Before this, it was different.

She loved Damon more than anything in her life and letting go of him was the hardest thing she ever had to do... she would never let herself think about him.

Except for now.

Stefan stops kissing her, "Are you alright?" He murmurs, his eyebrow furrowed.

She fakes a smile, tracing the line of his jaw, "Yeah." She reaches up and kisses his lips softly, trying to force the image of his brother's face to the back of her mind.

A smile tugs the corners of his lips and then he's kissing her again—softly and gently and nothing like how _he _used to kiss her.

_STOP IT!_

"Stefan..." She whispers intensely, "Make love to me."

He cups her cheek and tells her he loves her... then he's inside her. It's slow and passionate and she's panting, her mouth open against his neck. He's moaning too, soft little mewls that make her tingle. She wraps her legs around his hips, pulling him into her, as if to swallow him whole. She wants this, she _needs _this.

"Harder." She breathes, her eyes staring up into his. She refuses to break the contact as she trails her nails down his back, leaving half-crescent moon shapes that dissolve as quickly as they appear.

He complies but only slightly and she's panting for him to go faster, harder, more more _more_. It's foolish and crude, but maybe he can fuck the image of Damon out of her mind. She wants him to _really want her—_to consume her like Damon used to—but he's muttering that he loves her and doesn't want to hurt her and she has to fight the urge to cry in despair.

"Please." She almost begs, her nails pressing into his backside, forcing him deeper, "Harder, Stefan." She breathes and looks into his eyes, "I need this, _please_."

He looks confused, but increases the pace regardless. He buries his face in her neck and their bodies don't quite fit together. His head is slightly too big to fit into the crook of her shoulder, and his hips aren't slim enough for her legs to fit perfectly around him. She tries to ignore these points, but it hurts that it's not perfect... that he can't make her body sing like Damon could.

His unnecessary breathing becomes labored and she feels the tightening begin to coil in the pit of her stomach.

She feels Stefan begin to spasm within her and he whispers, "I love you so much."

"I love you." She replies as the waves of pleasure hit her with the force of a tidal wave.

And as he collapses beside her, she tries to deny that it was Damon's face that entered her mind when she spoke those three words.

* * *

That night, she finds herself crying.

It's not just a few tears either; it's great spasms of grief that wreck her whole body.

She walks down the street, her arms crossed over her stomach and her face distorted into an ugly mask of pain. She quickens the pace and all she can think about is how she needs to get to Bonnie. She can't do this anymore. She can't just forget about him. She can't do this.

She reaches the apartment that Bonnie shares with Caroline in less than ten minutes.

She chokes back her sobs and raises her fist to bang on the door. But as her hand connects with the wood, it creaks open instead of creating the 'bang' she had predicted. She frowns, pushing the door further open and walking inside, knowing that she's always welcome, that Bonnie wouldn't mind.

She opens her mouth to call for her, when she hears a shuffling and some giggles. She raises an eyebrow, walking further into the house and following the sound of the woman's laughter. She hears something smash and a high-pitched squeal; as well as a deep, husky chuckle that is so familiar it makes her stomach drop.

The tears begin to stop and dry on her heated skin as she stands in the kitchen doorway and feels her mouth fall open.

Apparently Bonnie's not here, because Caroline is hoisted up on the counter, her legs wrapped around a man's waist. Elena can't see him, it's late and the entire house is engulfed in darkness. Half of Caroline's face is illuminated by the moonlight that streaks through the window, and Elena wants to look away when she sees her open mouth and closed eyes and the face consumed by pleasure.

"Oh god, yes." She whimpers and her hips are moving frantically against his and Elena finds herself transfixed, paralyzed by her curiosity.

Suddenly a police car drives past the window, all lights and noise, and the red and blue rays cause the man's body to become illuminated.

She gasps and immediately regrets it, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. They're too wrapped up in each other to notice, and she tries to blink back the tears that threaten to resurface.

_No, it can't be. Please. No. No._

She'd know that body anywhere. The hard planes of his back are pale and sculptured and his hair is thick—disheveled with a kink and so dark it's practically black. He's kissing her furiously, their bodies writhing together, and Elena's praying to God this isn't what she thinks it is.

But then he turns his face to kiss Caroline's neck and Elena catches sight of a pair of come-hither, bedroom eyes that are so blue they don't look real.

Her stomach drops.

Her heart stops.

And she feels like she can't breathe.

_Damon._

* * *

**A/N: Aaaaaand he's back. This is where the fun stuff starts.**

**I know I said I'd update every Tuesday, but I couldn't wait!**

**Song: Coffee and Cigarettes by Michelle Featherstone**

**Not that well known, but it's a seriously beautiful, haunting song.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Aaaaand he's back. I want to move it along, so this chapter starts with Elena facing Damon.**

**Don't own anything, unfortunately.**

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Three

_You may say  
Why don't you realise  
I could give you everything  
But you see  
He can't be contained  
Or satisfied by all  
You could bring_

_He's not a boy that you can change  
Nor should you want to  
He's not a boy that you can tame  
Don't let it taunt you  
Don't even try to run away  
He wouldn't stop you_

He's a black silhouette against the dark wall and he stands unmoving, his arms crossed over his chest.

This is how it is. This is how it's always been.

He would never meet her first. He would always stand, still as a statue and hard as stone, waiting for her to make the first move; for her to come to him.

She takes a deep breath and tries to settle her racing heart. She can do this. She's not sixteen years old anymore. There's no need to panic. _He no longer has any hold over you_, she reminds herself. She straightens her back and makes an effort to come across as strong and dependent; but she can see the corner of his mouth tip up in a smirk at her feeble attempt.

Because that's not her, and he knows it. He knows that she's a romantic idiot; that she loves to _be loved. _When he left her, she tried to do the independent thing. She thought_ no more, men are evil, single is better_. But then she found herself sitting in her favorite chair with a cup of tea, trying to enjoy, for the first time in her life, what it was like to be alone.

And she hated it. She hated not having someone to go home to, someone to hold and kiss and love. She found that she had holes in her heart that could only be fixed by a man's touch. She felt stupid. Why did she keep trying so hard? Why did she keep picking herself up and starting again when she knew all it would get her was a broken heart? Bonnie says that she admires her; that her insistence to give herself to someone makes her feel like she's missing out in not trying to find love.

She takes a moment to really look at him.

His otherworldly beauty is still overwhelming. She thought she'd become immune to it; that over the years, his face wouldn't make her heart stop, his leather-clad body wouldn't make her own tingle.

But after this absence, he's even more beautiful to her and his eyes are still the best part about him. Scorching and penetrating and glinting a bright blue, she tries to avoid them and will her heart to slow down. He's taller than she remembers, and he still reminds her of a dark James Dean, wearing his signature black; black trousers, black boots, black t-shirt and most notably, his infamous black leather jacket.

His beautiful mouth is twisted into a smirk, something she's not surprised by, and she takes a deep breath.

"What are you doing here?" She tries to keep her voice calm and casual.

He tips his head to the side, observing her quietly. His hungry eyes rake up and down her body unapologetically, appreciatively, taking in her tight jeans and modest sweater. She bites her lip, feeling uncomfortable and flattered at the same time, and much like a zoo animal in a cage.

He smiles dangerously and she waits for him to use the voice she's been waiting to hear for six years.

"Elena." She feels a breath of air rush from her lips. His voice... it's just like she remembered. It's husky, sexy and still has an underlying hint of Italian. His mouth fits around her name perfectly, as if he's devouring it, _devouring her._

She tries to stay strong and ignore the fact that her voice quavers. "What are you_ doing _here, Damon?"

"You really think I'd miss my little brother's wedding?" He asks incredulously, and makes a '_tsk_' sound.

Her mouth opens and closes a few times and she probably looks like a fish; but his answer has shocked her to the core.

He knows.

He _knows._

She feels her heart pull and she wills herself to calm down. She will not get upset in front of him. Damon Salvatore has seen her cry too many times. But she's not going to lie, it hurts that he doesn't care. Is she so self-centered to wonder why he's not furious? Consumed with jealousy?

It's just another blow—more proof that she was just a fling... that she had meant nothing to him, when he had meant everything to her.

She shoves her hands into her pockets, shrugging awkwardly.

"Now now, aren't you going to say hello?" He raises an eyebrow and does "the eye thing" that makes her crazy.

"Hello." She replies quickly, her jaw tightening. Why is he doing this? Why is he even here? He obviously doesn't care about her getting married; a fact that hurts her more than she would admit.

He still hasn't moved, still waiting for her to come to him.

"What were you doing with Caroline?" She mumbles quietly.

He laughs cruelly and holds a hand out, "Come here, Elena." He murmurs darkly, sensually.

She swallows, "You never answered my question."

He rolls his eyes, "Doesn't matter. She means nothing to me." He shrugs, "Now come on," He tips his chin, beckoning for her to come to him, "Don't be difficult."

She walks slowly and with determination, still unable to resist even after all these years. She reaches out to take his hand and the electrical charge that sparks between them makes her draw back in fright. She withdraws and places her hand back into her pocket, now standing only inches from him.

He steps forwards, lowering his face to hers, and when his lips find her cheek, she feels like crying. He's just like she remembers, his body fits _perfectly_ against hers. Her nails dig into his biceps as he uses his vamp speed to ghost peppering kisses around her face and neck.

She closes her eyes and her bottom lip trembles when his strong arms wrap around her waist and rest on the small of her back. He reaches down and his lips are hot on her skin.

"God, I've missed you." He breathes and she can't help the strangled sigh that falls from her lips. How long has she wanted this? How many times has she dreamed of his arms around her again?

_But Stefan._

She completely forgot about him.

She steps back, dazed and upset, but his arms are like a vice around her. She pushes against his chest, begging for him to let her go, when she sees her diamond ring reflected in his blue eyes. He sees it too.

He deftly takes her hand, examining the ring idly. He pauses and blinks and before she can even respond, he's pushing her away with such force, she stumbles and nearly falls.

"What the _fuck _is that?" He hisses furiously, stepping back as if she'd burned him.

"I—I thought you knew." She says, wide-eyed, "You said you knew!"

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it, his expression murderous, "Knew _what?" _He seethes incredulously.

"You said you were here for Stefan's wedding…" She trails off and when his eyes flash with understanding, for a split second, she's scared.

It's irrational; she knows he'd never hurt her, at least not physically. But she's never seen him so furious, the lightening thunders outside, rain pelting against the windows, as his ability to control the weather reflects his fury.

He _didn't _know. He doesn't know.

"_You're _marrying Stefan?" He explodes, slamming his hands down on the glass table, feeling it smash, pieces of glass piercing the skin that heals almost instantaneously. She feels her bottom lip tremble and her eyebrows pull into a frown, as she struggles not to cry.

"I thought you knew." She whimpers again, pathetically.

"_Che bastardo!_" He spits, eyes red with anger, "_Cazzo!_ I'm going to kill him _slowly_." He hisses, before he begins muttering in his native language so quickly that Elena doesn't even try to translate, _"Non me ne frega niente, figlio di una cagna. Maleducato—"_

"Stop it!" She bursts out, "I'm not doing anything wrong!" She insists, surprised at her ability to stay strong, "You left _me_, Damon. I don't owe you anything!"

He laughs; a deep and dark and dangerous chuckle that makes her insides churn. He takes a step towards her.

"You're _my _Elena," His voice is husky, raspy now he's gained composure, "You're mine. Always have been, always will be. Don't argue. Don't even bother fighting it. You belong to me, no-one else, especially not my idiot of a brother."

She shakes her head softly. This is so typical. Damon never did share well. She would never have called him her_ boyfriend_—what they had was so much stronger and more complicated than that—but ever since they met, they both knew there wouldn't be anyone else. At least, that's what she thought. But at the beginning she was confined to waiting in the wings, watching with a tired heart as he sneaked through her window, sweaty and drenched in tacky perfume. He would lie on her bed and reach out for her, holding her close and entwining their fingers. Elena wasn't stupid. She knew Damon was gorgeous. She knew he'd get a lot of attention… and it seemed during those first couple of months, he made his way through Mystic Fall's entire female population.

The girls would stare, jealousy evident on their faces, as he pulled up in his convertible to pick her up from school. She'd jump in and he'd greet her by tilting his head with a warm smile and kissing her nose, her eyelids. She'd hear them snickering and whispering behind her; whispering about how hot and romantic he was, about how lucky she was, about what he saw in her. Of course she could never really hear them, but she'd always feel Damon smirk against her mouth when he'd use his vampire hearing to decipher exactly what the girls of Mystic Falls High School really thought of him.

It was confusing to them—how he would be seen with countless girls, and yet always return to her. They would laugh behind Elena's back, thinking she was just the doormat girlfriend—knowing he was too good for her and accepting a little cheating on his part. But they were never really together; it was never a 'Will you be my girlfriend?' sort of deal. It was just mutually accepted that she was his… that no boy could even come near her. Boys tiptoed around her, awed by her gentle beauty, but knowing she was off-limits and that they'd be crazy to attempt something with her. Sometimes someone would be brave enough to defy the rest and occasionally Elena would experience a fleeting crush, but as soon as Damon found out, he would either laugh or explode and spend the whole night reminding her who she belonged to.

"They're just _boys_." He would say. He was a _man_; forever 24, and no one—especially not a high school _boy_—could withstand his rage.

She accepted that he was with other girls, not because she was weak and pathetic enough to take it, but because she knew she couldn't control him—Damon did what he wanted, when he wanted—but they both knew he was as much hers as she was his. She doesn't know when it happened and it was never said, but sometime during their time together, the number of girls dwindled until he was only with her and no one else.

He'd always come back to her; something she never understood. She was just Elena, plain old Elena. Of course there's always that nagging feeling at the back of her mind… did he love her because she was Katherine? After all, he had been in love with her for a century and a half, something that doesn't just go away.

She knows he'll never stop loving her—and maybe that's what it was at the beginning—but Elena knows that overtime he did begin to love her for her.

But his uncontrollable desire to possess those he loves is his worst fault.

His love when earned is eternal, intense, consuming—and he loves very few.

But those few are the only people that can decipher his strange, complicated heart and cope with his jealousy that makes him near impossible to live with.

"I'm not yours." She tells him, her voice straining. "I'm Stefan's now. I belong to Stefan."

His jaw tightens and she can see him struggling to maintain his human face, "Don't say that." He warns darkly, "You know it makes me mad."

"I have to go." She murmurs, knowing that if she stays any longer, she'll break down. "I don't want to see you again… and I don't want you at the wedding. I think you should just leave."

He chuckles lowly, darkly.

"No Elena, I think I'll stay. I'd like to be there when you can't say the 'I dos' to my little brother because you're thinking of me."

She rolls her eyes at his arrogance and turns to walk away.

She won't walk towards him anymore.

* * *

Elena walks into the kitchen of the boarding house, painfully aware that Damon is currently lounging upstairs in the room that has always been his. She places her hands on the marble counter, leaning over and closing her eyes in defeat. She lets out a sigh and feels her body shiver—even when he's not with her, she can feel him. His scent lingers in the air, electrical and consuming. She knows it's ridiculous, but the air seems to crackle and everything is more alive now he's here.

She needs Stefan, but she knows he's hunting and won't be back for hours.

She feels someone enter the kitchen and she holds her breath, composing and preparing herself to face Damon again.

But she looks down and sees bright blonde hair reflected in the face of a cleaned plate. She closes her eyes, biting back her anger, as she turns to face Caroline.

She looks like she's about to cry.

"Elena, I'm so sorry." Her voice cracks and when she takes a step towards her, Elena moves to the right and walks over to the door.

Caroline's never been one to take a hint and she follows her down the hall—sobbing apologies—until they reach the spectacular dining room and Elena spins around, her face betraying her emotions.

"I can't even_ look_ at you right now, Caroline." Her voice shakes with disgust.

She purses her lips, letting out another soft sob. "I'm so sorry." She apologies for the millionth time, "I didn't mean for it to happen."

Elena scoffs in disbelief, "You came to me, asking to borrow earrings." She shakes her head, furiously pacing the room, "You told me you were going out with some guy you met. You lied to me. You _planned_ for this."

"I didn't!" She cries and Elena wants to tell her to shut up—that Damon is probably upstairs listening to their every word. "I—I went to visit my Dad and I just... bumped into him. I know I should've told you, but I knew how you would react and I didn't think anything would come of it... I mean everyone knows he's always been in love with y—" Her voice is becoming higher and higher and soon her wailing starts to piss Elena off and she snaps.

She cuts her off. She can't hear that. "—look, I don't give a _shit_ that you were with him." She hisses, finally losing her temper, "Damon and I have been over for a long time. He can do what he wants. But what does hurt is how you were _there _back then—you saw what he did to me, and yet you don't seem to care." She opens her mouth to reply, but her rant is no-where near finished, "And to just top it all off, you couldn't have just done what you wanted to do when you 'bumped into him'... you brought him back to Mystic Falls! You _told _him Stefan was getting married! And you brought him into this house. And for that, I can't forgive you."

Caroline bows her head, her high-pitched voice incoherent. Her hair is disheveled, her nose bright red and moist with tears, mascara runs down her face and her lips are twisted into an ugly grimace; she looks a mess.

"Elena, I didn't mean to tell him about the wedding. It just—it slipped out."

"It_ slipped_ out?" Elena raises her voice incredulously.

She winces, "You _know _how he is! He was being all charming and _Damon, _and I wasn't thinking clearly." She tries to justify herself.

"I can't hear this." Elena raises her hands in defeat and begins to walk away.

She only gets halfway up the stairs before Caroline's wailing after her, "Elena!"

Elena sighs with irritation and tiredness, as she turns around, "What?"

Caroline inhales shakily, her eyebrows pulled into a desperate frown, "You and Bonnie, you're my best friends." Another tear slides down her face, "I can't lose you. Please... just tell me what I can do. How can I make this better?"

Elena's eyes flicker around the room, before she focuses her gaze back on her.

"You wanna help?" Caroline nods eagerly, kind of like a dog. "Then get him out of here."

* * *

**Song: He's Not a Boy by Like**

**As the translation goes, I'm not gonna lie, I practically made it up so I'm so sorry if it's entirely wrong! What I meant to say is this:**

**"That bastard!" He spits, eyes red with anger, "Fuck! I'm going to kill him slowly." He hisses, before he begins muttering in his native language so quickly that Elena doesn't even try to translate, "I don't give a damn, that son of a bitch. Rude—"**

**A/N: Now is Elena being irrational? Or is Caroline in the wrong?**

**Review, and tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Wow! Thanks for all the support :)**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Four

_Help, I have lost myself again_  
_Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found_  
_I think that I might break_  
_I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe_

_Be my friend_  
_Hold me, wrap me up_  
_Unfold me_  
_I am small_  
_I'm needy  
Warm me up_  
_And breathe me_

**Two weeks earlier**

Caroline marches down the street, stubbornly wiping away the few tears that manage to leak from her eyes. She's annoyed—no, furious—and no amount of groveling can fix this. He's getting married. Her father is getting married_ again... _to a _man_ nonetheless. He's not supposed to be married; he's not supposed to be with _anyone _but her mother. But he is, and Caroline is _furious._

She storms into a near bar, ready to drown her sorrows. She practically kicks the door open and walks over to the bartender, who in-turn, raises an eyebrow at her annoyance. She takes a seat on a nearby bar stool, loudly scraping it along the floor and practically throwing herself into it, gaining the attention of the bar's patrons. One of them, a middle aged greasy chubby man, throws her a toothy grin and she rolls her eyes, unimpressed. Caroline's not stupid, she knows she's a pretty face and normally she loves the attention her slender curves and silky hair brings, but not tonight. Tonight is reserved only for her to lose herself in the alcohol that she hopes will numb the pain of her pathetic, _boring _life.

She orders the strongest drink available and the bartender asks for her ID. She silently fumes, hating the fact that her childish and delicate features will always render her younger than her years. She digs into her purse, throwing her drivers license at the ignorant bartender, who goes from apologetic to seedily intrigued as soon as he reads that she is, in-fact, 24.

Caroline fights the urge to throw up in her mouth at his advances. She gulps down the drink he tells her is "on the house" and immediately requests for another one. She is then thankful that she's always been able to hold her liquor.

Sometime during her stay, she looks out the small, chipped window and watches the sun glide over the hill. She sighs, a little bit sentimental and more than a little bit tipsy. The chubby man with a potbelly and slicked back hair moves his stool closer to hers, his stale breath dancing in the air around her. Her cheeks puff as she dry heaves, not even making an attempt to remain polite. She's much too angry and bitter and drunk for that.

"You're such a pretty little thing, you know that?" He grins and she notes that his accent is Texan or some shit.

She replies with a non-committal, "I know."

"Mmm," He releases what sounds like a muffled groan and she raises an eyebrow, grimacing. "Why don't you come outside with me, darlin'?" His tone practically drips of lewd, revolting suggestions and Caroline wants to curl up and die._ Seriously, what is the point? What is the point of even living?_

"No thank you."

He pulls a mock-disappointed face and pouts like a fish. "Oh come on. You know you want to."

She turns her head and glares at him, "I. Really. Really. Don't." She seethes through gritted teeth, much too far gone for simplicities and politeness.

He grabs her arm with a podgy hand, his temper flaring and his patience wearing thin.

She's slightly worried now. He's looking at her dangerously, a sickly smile on his face. He stands up and drags her with him and she briefly wonders if she should scream. Isn't that what one does in this situation? She places a hand to her head, trying to stop the room spinning and sways on her feet. They barely reach the door before reality kicks in and she's struggling, pulling against the hand that's enclosed around her wrist.

"No!" She raises her voice, her eyes tearing up and her eyebrows furrowed.

"Shut up." He hisses, his beady little eyes flickering around the bar nervously.

He's pulling again and she's beginning to cry and then there's a smooth, melodic voice.

"I believe the lady said no."

The man stops, as does Caroline, and she follows him when he turns around to confront the beautiful, but strangely dangerous voice.

Her mouth falls open and her eyes widen when she sees that it's not just _anyone_ standing before her, a threatening smile on his handsome face.

It's Damon Salvatore.

In the midst of the terror of her potential attack and her drunken haze, she remembers him. It's been a while, she notes with piqued interest. Five, six years? She doesn't remember. The only thing she does remember is what he did to Elena, how he treated her and how he up and left one day, without so much as a word.

He was never much to Caroline—just a pretty face and a sort-of boyfriend to one of her best friends. But even back then, she noticed how strange he was. She remembered his infectious, smooth demeanor when they both had dinner at the Gilbert's, the way he effortlessly charmed both Elena's aunt and her turd of a brother. He was always a mystery to her, the hot guy who had Elena all tied up. But he was very... _different_ and Caroline thought you'd have to be blind not to notice how gorgeous he was.

"Look, pretty boy," The chubby man starts and Damon's eyebrow raises dangerously with unimpressed anger at the 'boy' part, "I saw her first."

Damon Salvatore isn't fazed as he steps forward, standing tall over the greasy-haired man's short, stubby posture. He stares him down, his blue eyes sending cold, threatening messages and Caroline swaggers slightly, her eyes becoming unfocused and hiccups catching in her throat. The chubby man tightens his grip on her wrist, but she notices that his hand has begun to tremble slightly. He's scared.

_Ha, take that._ She thinks drunkenly.

"Get out of my way, boy." His voice is considerably quieter as he tries to push Damon out of the way, his eyes widening with... fright? when Damon doesn't even budge. _He's like a solid wall_, Caroline frowns confusedly.

Damon's piercing eyes narrow, "Call me 'boy' one more time." He says dangerously, leaning closer to the man's face, "I dare you."

_Careful! _Caroline wants to say; _He'll kill you with the death breath._

"Move." He's practically stammering now and Caroline thinks he's pathetic and that Damon is kind of like her knight in shining armor. Then she tipsily shakes her head, remembering how shattered Elena was when he left, and how he would probably laugh at her for thinking such a thing.

Damon leans in even more—obviously he didn't hear her silent warning—and whispers something in the man's ear. From this angle, all Caroline can see is the sweat that runs down the side of the fat man's face, and the beautiful, chiseled jaw line of Damon Salvatore. She doesn't know what he says, but she does know that the man's hand isn't trembling anymore... it's downright shaking.

He suddenly lets go and through her inebriated haze, she thinks she catches sight of a white, gleaming... fang? But she pushes that thought to the back of her mind because she is, after all, too drunk to function.

The man stumbles back, his seedy eyes wide and frightened, and he's rambling things like "Please don't hurt me." etc etc. She thinks it's strange, how much he's overreacting. But then she sees that Damon's eyes are so black they don't even have pupils, and she thinks maybe the _potential rapist _wasn't overreacting after all. She glances down at the red fingerprints the sweaty man has imprinted on her bronze skin and she frowns, supporting her arm and holding it to her chest.

Damon Salvatore's eyes are changing again, turning a reddish color and his lips are pulled into a sneer, as he moves to go after the chubby man who's long since ran out the door.

"Don't." She blurts, her hand dashing out to grab his arm. He looks down at where they're connected with furrowed brows and scorching eyes. He slowly drags those eyes back to her and the intensity of his gaze makes her draw her hand back. She recovers quickly, "Please don't." Her voice is smooth, slurred, and he wonders just how much she's had to drink tonight, "He's not worth it."

Damon knows that. Pathetic parasites like those men—can they even be called men?—are worth nothing. Nothing but a messy, undignified end maybe, he thinks with a smirk. I mean, if you're going to be a murderous asshole, at least do it with some style. But although he _is _hungry, Damon knows the man's blood will be less than appetizing. It'll be tainted with malice, laced with alcohol and sweat, a hot and sticky substance that won't slide down his throat and will be less than pleasing to the taste. So he lets him go, knowing that he's a waste of space and probably won't last long anyway.

"Thank you." Caroline attempts a smile. "It's Damon, right?"

Damon raises an eyebrow, momentarily stunned that she knows his name. He takes in her pretty blue eyes, slender body and bright blonde hair and he thinks he'd _definitely _remember her if he'd seen her before.

Caroline takes in his blank expression with embarrassment, "Sorry." She mumbles, "I'm not some kind of creepy stalker." She laughs nervously and subconsciously rubs her sore wrist.

Damon shakes his head softly and sends her a charming smile, "I'm sure you're not." He soothes, "I'm just having a hard time trying to place you." Seriously, how many women has he encountered in his very long lifetime?

She winces internally. He doesn't remember her... why should he? She's nothing special. She curses herself quickly for sounding so retardedly, pathetically pitiful for herself.

"I went to high school with..." She stops herself. Should she mention Elena? Would that be painful for him? Probably not. But would it be awkward? Yes, definitely. She decides to go for the easier option, "Stefan." She settles for.

_Which time? _Damon thinks amusedly, chuckling internally at his own joke as well as Stefan's pathetic insistence to dully repeat high school over and over in an attempt to remain human.

"I remember you lived in the Salvatore boarding house for a while." She continues, before grimacing. Great. Now she knows where he lives. She thinks he's probably scared that she is, in-fact, a creepy, scary stalker... and then she kicks herself because she shouldn't care what he thinks, "You're his brother, right?"

Damon takes the hand that isn't injured, "His older, sexier, overall _better_ brother, yes." He smiles charmingly and brings her hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

She thinks the move is outdated, old fashioned, but she can't deny the spark that travels down the length of her spine the moment his lips touch her tanned skin.

"Caroline." She whispers, her voice caught in her throat, she coughs. "Caroline Forbes."

_Grrrreat. Now I sound like James Bond. God. I'm so retarded._

_Why do you care what you sound like? Remember how upset he made Elena. You know Elena, your _best _friend?_

Caroline rolls her eyes at her inner monologue and smiles at Damon.

"You wanna go somewhere?" He offers and her stomach drops. "You know, to talk?"

Really, how many times has she heard that line?

But he's looking at her that way no-one ever has, like he_ wants_ her. Matt never looked at her that way, not when they were together. And she's slowly forgetting everything Damon did to Elena, because she has the feeling that being with him would be sensational. She knows that it wouldn't be anything like the clumsy, sweaty kisses she used to experience behind the bleachers in high school. No. Damon's older, smoother and she remembers seeing the kisses that left Elena flustered and blushing. And of course there's the fact that she's upset and drunk and something about him draws her in like a moth to a flame.

He's irresistible.

* * *

He's trailing kisses down the length of her neck and she's throwing her head back, lost in pleasure. She knows this is wrong... that Elena would be devastated... but it's been _so long_... and his lips feel so good on her flushed skin. She grips his shirtless back, her fingernails digging into the pale flesh, and he kisses her harder, sucking at the skin of her neck.

_Should he bite?_ He wonders. She's lost in rapture, her toes curling into the seedy motel's faded grey sheets. It would be so easy. All he'd have to do is bear his fangs, sink his teeth into her bronzed neck, and feel the indescribable pleasure of sweet, young-girl blood running down his throat.

She squeezes him between her thighs, her grip tightening, and when she wraps her legs around his waist and moans his name, he is reminded of another.

_Stop it. _He kicks himself angrily. _Stop thinking about her. Stop._

He shakes his head and when he goes to kiss Caroline's lips, he stops... because he sees _her_ face. He doesn't fight it this time. It's been so long since he's seen her and he _needs_ this. He doesn't want to push her image to the back of his mind like he does on so many nights. Tonight he wants to be with her, even if he's not really, because this is how it always is. He hates it, but it doesn't matter where he goes; she's always with him.

"Damon." Elena's face vanishes and is replaced by Caroline's. He sighs, despaired that she's not here anymore, but determined to make the best of it. Because Caroline might be a clueless, selfish, shallow bitch, but he can't deny the fact that she's beautiful.

She's moaning that she wants him inside her and he thinks it's a bit over the top. But he slides in anyway, the overwhelming feeling making him bow his head and bite his lip. The intensity, the incredible pleasure... it's too much. He can feel the ache in his fangs... he needs to bite her. He's going to bite her.

She moans in rapture and he increases the pace, lowering his head to her neck. But just as he's about to sink his fangs in, a thought pops into his mind.

Caroline knows Stefan. She went to high school with Stefan. That means she must've went to high school with Elena. She must know Elena.

_Yes_, he thinks. _I remember now._

He remembers seeing her around. He remembers her being one of Elena's best friends... her and a dark skinned girl... a witch?

He shakes his head; her groans bringing him back to reality. He looks down at her pleasure-ridden face and decides then, to keep her alive. Not because he likes her, or because she's special, but because she knows Elena. He can get closer to her, without actually having to see her.

Although he'd never admit it, he wants to know Elena. He wants to know everything about her. How she's doing. How she's looking. How she's coping.

More than anything, he_ misses_ her.

But he doesn't really know if he wants to be around her. He wants her to be happy and he wants her to be safe, but part of him never wants to see her again—because she's dangerous. She has the power to dull the darkness in him; to bring the one scrap of his long lost humanity back to the surface. She has the power to resort him to a jealous, insecure mess and she has the power to absolutely _destroy_ him.

Caroline knows he's not thinking about her. In-fact, he's not even looking at her. He's lost, thinking about someone else. Surprisingly, this doesn't upset her. She not delusional enough to think that he's actually lost in _her_. Everyone knows that Damon Salvatore only has eyes for Elena Gilbert.

But when he tilts his hips, he hits a spot within her that sends her into rapture. When he follows, they collapse together, sweaty and sticky.

It's then that she feels guilty.

They talk for a little while. He tells her about what's he's been up to in the past six years and she tells him about Stefan's engagement. He's intrigued about that and when he asks who to, she purses her lips and lies. She makes someone up, even goes as far as to describe her, and she doesn't know why. Maybe it's because she knows he'll explode if he knows. Maybe it's because she's selfish and she wants him to herself.

She thinks that's it.

But this time, she won't feel guilty about it.

She'll enjoy their time together... because she knows that as soon as he catches sight of Elena again... it'll be over.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so I know for a Elena-centred fic there is a serious lack of Elena. But this chapter was kind of relevant. I don't know about you, but I love Caroline and I wanted everyone to see exactly how it happened. I also wanted to show how Damon thinks about Elena. There's a '_Drop Dead Fred'_ quote somewhere in here, prizes for whoever spots it :) Oh and by the way, I love Jeremy, so don't be offended by the "turd" comment, I'm just trying to get into Caroline's head, is all.**

**Song: Breathe Me by Sia**

**Sums Caroline up perfectly**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This is where the sort-of steamy stuff starts.**

**Enjoy, little ones.**

* * *

****

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Five

_You can buy her everything she likes  
And I'm sure she'll be obliged  
To let you steal a kiss, maybe even spend the night  
Kid, all good  
Just know that she'll be thinking of me  
Even when she's with you_

_I treat her bad, she loves me good  
And I just hate to have to tell you  
'Cause you're a nice guy  
But that just won't do  
She wants a bad boy_

When Elena was fifteen, everyone around her was falling in love with bad boys. Caroline and Vicki were crazy about them. Even Bonnie admitted to finding them attractive. Elena remembers how they would giggle about how gorgeous Chuck Bass from 'Gossip Girl' was and how there was nothing hotter than a guy who knew his sex appeal.

Elena couldn't, for the life of her, understand why.

The whole concept was lost on her.

She couldn't understand how her best friends found these types of boys so appealing. To her, they were just swaggering, cocky, macho jerks who treated women like they were replaceable and she couldn't understand why girls like Caroline were just waiting in line to climb into their bed.

Elena would share her view with Matt Donovan, her kind and sensitive boyfriend, who would agree with her and insist that he, too, hated those guys and couldn't understand why girls like his sister loved them.

Secretly, the fifteen year old Elena would think Caroline and Vicki only liked these boys because they were bad girls themselves... and this was reflected in the way they treated the good guys that came into their lives.

For example, Elena would watch how Vicki Donovan trampled over her little brother's heart and she couldn't understand how Jeremy didn't see how shallow and selfish and indecisive she was. Maybe it was because he was a _good_ guy. He was blind—only seeing her good side and sticking with her—while she in-turn swooned over Tyler Lockwood—an arrogant and abusive football player who only wanted her for her ass.

Sometimes Elena's hypocrisy makes her feel sick.

She now sits silently in her bedroom and wonders how it came to this.

If you would have asked her nine years ago what she's looking for in a man, she would've answered easily, effortlessly.

She would've insisted that she wanted a nice guy with a good sense of humor... a guy like Matt who would treat her well.

And yet, unbeknownst to her, less than a year later, she would fall madly and deeply in love with a man who would use and abuse her.

Elena slowly drags her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and placing her chin on her right knee. She leans her head to the side, the sharp bone of her knee digging into her cheek.

As she sits like this, curled into a small, submissive position, she thinks about everything Damon is and why she fell so hard for him.

Damon is cocky, arrogant. He is inattentive to a woman's needs (apart from in the bedroom) and he _always _puts himself first. He does what he wants when he wants to do it, regardless of what anyone else thinks. He treats women badly, is untamable and uncontainable and isn't even remotely a "nice" guy.

Elena knows this.

She's very aware of it.

Yet she still finds herself inexplicably drawn to him, unable to let go.

Maybe it's because he sets her on fire. Maybe it's because he exudes masculinity, independence and confidence. Maybe it's because he doesn't need anyone; because he is who he is and makes no apologies.

She met him when she was sixteen—still a baby. She had met Stefan at school... had been impressed by his mysterious beauty and chivalrous nature.

She wanted to know more.

She had taken her first steps into the Salvatore Boarding house, an eerie feeling coming over her—like she was diving headfirst into the beginnings of her destiny, her fate.

She had been greeted by an empty house, until she turned around to leave and suddenly Damon was just there, right in front of her, so close their noses were nearly touching. If she had been surprised by Stefan's beauty, she was shocked and speechless at Damon's. They had talked for a little while and he had told her about Katherine, Stefan's ex. Yet, he spoke about her with such intensity it was obvious he had been involved with her too. Stefan had appeared then, glaring at his brother, who in-turn kissed Elena's hand and charmed her effortlessly.

She should've known then, that she would fall for him.

His traits—especially his confidence—were like an aphrodisiac to her... and it wasn't long until she was his completely.

She was in love with the type of man she had warned her friends about.

He kept her guessing, stood his ground and walked away if she was being too difficult. She discovered his secret soon, and instead of pushing him away, she found herself even more drawn to him. He didn't treat her brilliantly, and he made her cry too many times to count.

Elena can't look in the mirror.

It makes her feel sick.

* * *

"Why hello Sabrina."

His voice is as smooth as she remembers, and Bonnie rolls her eyes.

"Don't start with me, Damon." She warns, flitting around the boarding house's kitchen, ready to make Elena's favorite dish.

She's been here too many times to count and she knows where everything is. Well... nearly everything. She closes her eyes, tuning out the arrogant vampire beside her, and thinks the word "salt", her senses immediately telling her to go to the second drawer.

Sure enough, the salt lies there next to the various other spices, and Bonnie smiles, thankful for her powers.

"Nice parlor trick."

The witch turns to him, her hands on her hips and her expression less than impressed.

"Look," She points a wooden spoon towards him and he raises an eyebrow, finding her stance more amusing than threatening.

She frowns slightly, lowering her weapon and clearing her throat, "If you've come to play with Elena some more then you can just leave."

The corners of his lips curl into a smirk, "Hey, I'm just here for the free food and kind hospitality."

She scoffs, "No-one wants you here, Damon." She gets back to work, picking up a knife and beginning to chop up some tomatoes.

"Sometimes your words..." He puts a mocking hand to his heart, "...they hurt."

Bonnie feels her self-control slipping. Her fingers curl into the marble counter and she tries to hide the face that is becoming more and more furious. How dare he? How dare he just waltz back into everyone's lives and act as if he hadn't completely destroyed _everything?_

And he_ had_ destroyed everything.

It wasn't just Elena.

Damon had known how much Matt Donovan loved his sister, yet he wasted no time in turning her and causing her death, just because he was "bored."

Damon had purposely toyed with Elena, regardless of the fact that he knew his baby brother was crazy about her.

Bonnie remembers when Elena was with him. She would ask her why, why would you stay with someone who was so bad for you? Elena would brush her off, telling her that she didn't see the side of Damon that she saw, that he could be kind, romantic, _nice_.

Bonnie would laugh. She must be joking.

Damon Salvatore was a monster.

A monster that is currently pressed against her back.

He moves her hair to the side, his face pressing into her dark curls.

He's playing a game.

He's always playing games.

She whirls around and brings her knee up, striking him painfully.

He momentarily loses composure, his bow-shaped lips turning into a grimace as he groans.

Bonnie's eyes narrow, "I am not some little girl you can play with." She hisses, "I'm a powerful witch. I can create fires with my mind. I could kill you in an instant. Don't think for a second I wouldn't. Elena told me what happened with Caroline and let's get one thing straight—I am _not_ her. I am not some self-centered, immature little girl who you can seduce with one of your signature smirks. I'm stronger than that. I don't know what kind of game you're playing this time, but I definitely don't want any part of it. I am also not Elena. You are nothing to me. Nothing but a dangerous threat that should've been put down years ago. So I swear to God, if you come any closer, I will ram this through your chest." She picks up the wooden spoon he had laughed at.

Damon's lips twitch as he circles her slowly, "Very inspirational speech, Broom-hilda." He ghosts his lips along her ear, "You should run for congress." He chuckles lowly and before she can even react, his hand is around her throat, "One more thing..." He intentionally draws back and looks into her eyes, thrilled at the lapse of strength there, "Don't ever threaten me again." He warns through gritted teeth and Bonnie falters, the anger in his eyes startling her.

Before she can do anything, he's pushing her back with one clear, smooth movement and with a gush of wind, he's gone.

And Bonnie releases the breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

* * *

Elena sits silently in her bedroom, on the edge of her bed, in the same position she's been in for at least an hour.

She can't see him again.

She can't move.

She can't even breathe.

But he's pushing her door open and she knows she was stupid for even thinking he would just go away.

She doesn't want him to go away.

She wants to hurt him, to hit him, to break him.

She wants to love him.

She's a mess.

He's peeking his head around the door, one bright blue eye penetrating her and she shakes her head, "Go away, Damon."

Damon chuckles and pushes the door open regardless, "Well," He starts, walking in and closing the door behind him, "You know_ that_ never works."

Elena snorts, an unattractive sound that she immediately wishes she could take back. But he doesn't seem to care. He's walking towards her, like he should've been doing all those years ago, and his expression is serious for once—something that unsettles her and completely throws her off guard.

He kneels down in front of her sitting form, placing his hands either side of her knees. She frowns down at him, her eyes watery and tired, and he bites his lip.

They stay like that for a few minutes, observing each other, every small difference, everything that's changed since they've been apart.

He's remained flawless. A vampire, he doesn't change. He's still as beautiful now as he was a century ago and he'll still be this beautiful in centuries to come.

But she _has_ changed, he notes. She's looking less like Katherine, a fact that grieves and relieves him at the same time.

He hasn't seen her for six years and although she's maintained the childlike grace she was born with, her features have blossomed and been accentuated by a woman's beauty. Her eyelashes are longer, darker. Her eyes are clear, depthless. The lips he used to love to kiss are still the same—red and slightly chapped from where she's constantly capturing her bottom one between her teeth. She's the same... and yet so different. She's a woman now.

"Why are you here, Damon?" It seems to be the only thing she ever says to him. "No good can come of you being here."

He ignores her.

"Why haven't we seen each other in six years?"

The question startles her and she frowns, beginning to stand up. He knows every move she's going to make, and he places his hands on her thighs, holding her down. His hands are cold, even through the denim of her jeans, and she knows she should push him away.

But she doesn't.

Because she's wanted this for six years—needed it, even.

And now he's here, with her.

It doesn't seem real.

"You left me." She whispers, the simplicity of it causing a twinge in her heart. "_That's_ why we haven't seen each other in six years."

He shakes his head, lifting his hand and trailing it along her cheek.

"You were never gone." His fingertips ghost against her flushed skin and his voice is just as soft. "It didn't matter where I was, you were always with me."

Their eyes meet again. Blue on Brown. Undeniable electricity that remains unchanging however the circumstance. She shakes her head. He drops his hand back to her thigh.

"How was I supposed to know that?"

He shrugs. "You weren't."

It's like a continuous circle with him and she hates how she can never get a straight answer.

"I waited for you." She bows her head, her hands still in her lap, while his still reside on her skin—the heel of his hands on her knees and his fingers curled into her thighs. He drags them slowly upwards and she closes her eyes.

He releases a bitter sigh and looks at her left hand. "Clearly not long enough."

She glances at him, a look of hard indignation on her face.

"Don't look at me like that." She scorns. "I have every right to wear it. You weren't there."

"So you decided to jump into bed with my brother?" He offers, his tone light and playful and his eyes anything but.

"It wasn't like that." She whispers, closing her eyes for a moment to regain posture, "I _did_ wait for you. You have no idea what it was like. I kept expecting you to just walk in the door, like you always did, but you never came back. I wrote you letters, but I didn't know where to send them. I rang you, but I hung up before you answered. I didn't know what I'd done wrong. You just left. I waited four years before I let Stefan into my heart, while you were probably out seducing countless numbers of women. So don't look at me like I'm so much worse than you, when_ you_ were the one who gave up on us."

He sees the beginning of a tear and reaches up, wiping it away before it can roll down her flushed cheek. His hand lingers, the back of his fingers brushing against her skin and she sighs, subconsciously leaning into his touch.

"I'm not ready to tell you why I left." He replies simply, "But I never wanted to hurt you, that was never my intention."

She finds that hard to believe.

All he ever does is hurt her.

"You never even tried." Elena murmurs as he brings his hand down to her thigh again, "You were everything to me." She whispers and takes a deep breath. "I loved you."

He observes her closely, without apology, and when she turns to hide, he grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"I loved you so much." She looks straight into his eyes, wanting him to know, wanting him to feel the pain she felt.

He doesn't say anything else. He doesn't say it back. He just brings her face to his and presses his lips to hers, without hesitation, without even thinking... because this is as natural as breathing to him.

Elena breathes against his open mouth, knowing this is wrong, but too far-gone to stop. His lips slant over hers forcefully as he pours six years worth of pent up anger and frustration into the kiss. She grabs the lapels of his leather jacket, pulling him closer to her, wanting more more _more_.

She wants this, wants him, all of him.

It's like every cell in her body simultaneously vibrates all at once.

It's unbelievable.

It's everything.

But it's wrong.

"No." She breathes, pushing him away, "I'm engaged to Stefan. I made a promise to Stefan." Her voice shakes and his grip tightens.

"Don't say that." He whispers agonizingly, "Don't even_ think_ his name..." His eyes are dark, scorching, his voice velvet, "Not when you're here with me, like this."

With that, he doesn't give her time to think of anyone, and his tongue is entwining with hers, a dance they perfected years ago. Everything's the same. Every feeling, every motion, everything. It makes her ache. His fingers itch to remove clothing, he's not used to being so patient, but he wants this. He wants all of her, he's missed so much. He doesn't want to rush. He wants to show her that she belongs to him, that no-one—especially not his child of a brother—can make her feel the way he can. She's not for anyone else. She's for him. They're Elena and Damon. They're undeniable.

Her teeth bite his lip, drawing blood and he groans against her mouth, his control slipping. He opens her legs, moving forwards until he's pressed against her, and her legs are automatically wrapping themselves around him—consuming him, like he's always consumed her. Her cheeks are burning, her breath releasing in strangled gasps and she could stop this, _should_ stop this.

But the pleasure is indescribable and she's waited so long. With Stefan, she has what she wants, but not what she needs. _This_ is what she needs. She doesn't even realize her hands are twisted into Damon's dark hair, desperately trying to get closer to him. He thrusts against her open thighs, frustrated and wild, wanting to slide inside her, to finally feel her again.

"There wasn't one day in those six years..." He kisses her quickly, short peppering kisses that leave her breathless, "...when I didn't think of you."

A tear rolls down her cheek and she leans her forehead against his. His hands rest on either side of her face as hers cling to his back, "You just cut yourself off, from all of us." She whispers brokenly, and when he goes to reply, she presses her hand to his swollen lips. "You could've come back." A sob catches in her throat, "Why didn't you come back?"

He doesn't answer. Just kisses her again—his hardness pressing into her and her wetness pressing into him. It's desperate now—hands clawing at clothes; lips and tongues and teeth. He's finally going to have her again.

But then his sensitive ears hear Stefan's car pull up in the driveway and he doesn't care enough to tell her. He doesn't want this to end.

But he's walking up the stairs and Damon knows Elena will hate him if he doesn't do anything. So with one more frantic kiss, he disappears and Elena's let clutching at thin air.

Stefan walks in.

He looks at her swollen lips, her messed up hair, her tear-stained cheeks.

He asks what's wrong.

He holds her.

And, as usual, she lies.

* * *

**Song: Nice Guys Finish Last by Cobra Starship**

**A/N: Sexy song, suits Damon.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for all the reviews, folks.**

**I hope I did this one justice.**

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Six

_I will wrap my body  
In other women's arms  
Make love in a hurry  
Feel better than I am  
Hope you find yourself  
In someone else's eyes _

_You're just one of many_  
_Who broke their heart on me_  
_So I say I don't love you_  
_Though it kills me_  
_It's a lie that sets you free._

**6 Years Ago.**

It's late. She doesn't care. She has to see him.

She's been feeling strange all day.

She's happy and lightheaded and nervous and confused.

Her heart's in her throat.

Her head's pounding.

The butterflies in the pit of her stomach are uncontrollable.

She has a name for it now.

She drives down the road, rain pelting at the windsheild, making it almost impossible to see, and she can barely contain her excitement.

Maybe excitement's the wrong word.

Apprehension. Restlessness. A horrible sense of foreboding—of knowing that what she's about to tell him is huge—that if it ends badly, the outcome will break her.

Of course, the feeling's not new.

It's been here since the beginning—a nagging sense at the pit of her stomach, the back of her mind, the depths of her heart.

Deep down, she's always known.

Everyone would say it and she would never deny it.

She's admitted it to everyone.

Everyone but him.

Maybe it's because she doesn't want him to see her like this—all mushy and sentimental.

He can't know what she's thinking. He can't know that she wants the white picket fence and she wants to be a soccer mom to eleven children and she knows that it's impossible, that he's a vampire and not exactly Prince Charming... but she wants it anyway.

She knows that she's royally and completely fucked... and yet she can't control the giddy smile on her face, the swooning school girl feeling in her chest.

Because she doesn't care.

Because she wants everything with him.

She wants to be with him, always.

She wants him every moment of every day, forever.

Because she loves him.

* * *

"Hello?" She sees that the Boarding House's door is open and she pushes her way inside.

Silence.

She frowns, walking slowly and cautiously, her eyes flickering around the old furniture and portraits.

She calls out for Damon, for Stefan, and when she's greeted with yet more silence, she feels the beginnings of what can only be described as panic forming in her chest.

Elena begins to walk up the elegant staircase, her feet silent on the wooden steps. She walks over the top one and towards Damon's room, but before she can enter, there's a gush of wind and Stefan Salvatore is blocking her path.

He's jittery and fidgety—he can't seem to stand still—his hands are practically shaking, she notes with worried curiousity.

"You can't go in there."

His voice is strained, his jaw set.

Elena's mouth opens and closes a few times, before she places her hands on her hips.

"Why not?"

He bites his lip.

"Why don't we take a walk outside?"

He grabs her arm and tries to drag her away, but fear has rooted her to the ground and she struggles against him.

"No Stefan." Her voice is lined with strength as she tries to settle her dread, "I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what's going on."

She makes another pass for the door, but he uses his vampire speed—she really hates it when the Salvatore's do that—and he's blocking the way again. He tips his head to the side, looking at her with eyes so pleading it causes a twinge in her heart. She pushes the feeling back, set on finding Damon, set on putting an end to all the side-stepping and set on telling him how she feels. She pushes at Stefan's chest, but he's unyielding and she cries out in exasperation.

"What don't you want me to see? Where's Damon?"

He ignores her and keeps looking at her with those puppy dog eyes... it's really starting to piss her off.

"Stefan," She raises her voice, "Move! Tell me what's going on!" She repeats and when she sees him falter, she uses it to her advantage and uses all of the force she has to push him out of the way.

"Fine. I'll see for myself." It's just a small stumble, but it's enough for her to get past him and run inside.

Her brows furrow in confusion.

"Wha—I don't understand." She breathes and Stefan's next to her, a sympathetic look grazing his never-aging features.

She'd expected something terrible.

She'd expected a scene from a movie—all smashed glass and broken furniture.

Her overactive imagination even went as far as to imagine Damon lying on the floor, a bloody mess, all broken limbs and distorted features.

In those few moments, she'd imagined everything.

Except this.

His room... it's completely empty.

It's not just a few objects missing here and there either... everything is gone.

All his possessions...

Vanished.

Elena turns to Stefan, her face a mask of confusion.

"I don't understand." She whispers again, "Where's Damon? Where's all his stuff?"

Stefan sighs, pinching the crook of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"I'm so sorry, Elena." He murmurs, reaching out for her, "He's gone."

"Gone?" She recoils from his touch, her voice straining, "Gone where?"

The younger Salvatore shrugs, "I don't know." His voice is steady and smooth and Elena's getting pretty damned tired of his unhelpfulness, "He just packed his stuff and left. Said he needed to get out of town."

Elena breathes shakily, "No." She shakes her head quickly, "No. You must have misunderstood."_ Yes, that's it._ "He was with me last night."

She searches her mind for any odd behaviour and comes up blank.

They'd had a perfect night together.

She'd felt herself fall even deeper in love with him.

But come to think of it, he _was_ oddly attentive.

He was gentle, tender, sweet even.

He kissed her softly, made love to her slowly, even went as far as to hold her afterwards.

It was different.

But Elena had never felt so giddy, so overwhelmed with joy and adoration and love.

How could he just be gone?

She hasn't even had the chance to say goodbye.

She hasn't had the chance to tell him she loves him.

"Where is he?" She turns to Stefan, sharply. "You must have an idea of where he went." She stares him down, daring him to look away. "Where can I find him?"

He hesitates. Not because he doesn't know where his brother's gone—he knows everything about Damon, can predict his every move, they have been brothers for nearly two centuries afterall—but because Elena's so much more than that. She's special, so much better than Damon. He doesn't deserve her.

Stefan sees the pleading in her eyes, but he hesitates because _he _wants her. He wants her to know that Damon is a self-serving asshole—that he could love her so much better. He wants to tell her that she's all he thinks about... that he knows his brother would kill him if he knew the thoughts he has about her, but that he doesn't care, because he wants to be with her. He's always wanted to be with her.

But she's looking at him with eyes so desperate, he knows that if he loves her, he must let her go.

He sighs.

"Italy."

Elena perks, "What?"

"He'll be on his way to Italy." Stefan tell her with a heavy, regretful heart, "He loves it there. It's home to him. It's the only place I think he'd go. He'll be on his way to the airport."

Elena contemplates what the younger brother is saying; how long ago did he leave? Will she be able to catch him? What will happen when she does?

She doesn't know.

But she has to try.

She mumbles a quick thank you and goodbye to Stefan and is out the door sooner than he can stop her.

* * *

She drives quickly, recklessly, the thunder and lightning outside occasionally causing her to jump in startled surprise. She's amazed that she hasn't been pulled over a dozen times and she battles on through the storm, the windshield wipers doing nothing to halter the unforgiving pelts of rain.

A rumble of thunder echoes around her and she shivers; a mix of the gloomy surroundings and the sense that something is terribly wrong.

She reaches the airport in record time and jumps out of the car, not really caring where she's left it. She runs through the airport, her clothes soaking and her hair a matted mess that will become frizzy within moments of drying.

Her sneakers squelch and squeak against the shiny, clean floor as she quickly makes her way to the television screens that will show her when Damon's flight is set to take off.

She looks up at them, unapologetically pushing people out of the way, and sees that the flight to Florence, Italy boards in less than thirty minutes.

She notes the gate number and runs.

The area is mostly quiet, only a few mumbles and laughs here and there, and she scans the passengers, looking for a leather jacket or a head of dark hair.

Her wide eyes find him almost immediately, his quiet voice like a siren in her sensitive ears.

"Damon..." She breathes, trying to stay calm as she walks up to him.

He feels her before he sees her.

He sees the bottom of her drenched leggings before he lifts his head and looks into her confused, nervous eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

She breathes incredulously.

"What am _I_ doing here?" She frowns down at his sitting form, "What are _you_ doing here? Are you visiting family or something?"

She sincerely hopes that this is the case; that he has some old family members hidden away in Florence somewhere and that he simply forgot to tell her he was paying them a visit.

She wants, more than anything, for that to be what's happening here. But there's something about the way he's looking at her; something that tells her this isn't just a small trip home.

"You shouldn't be here, Elena."

His voice is hard, his eyes empty and nothing like how they were mere hours ago.

Her voice raises in frustration, "What the hell is going on?"

A few passengers raise their heads, startled by the sudden outburst, and Damon breathes through his nose, standing up and taking her elbow.

"Come on." He speaks slowly and quietly and he's dragging her out of sight before she can object.

They turn a corner and then they're alone.

"Damon..." Elena whispers, searching his face for a hint of what's happening, "I don't understand. Where are you going?"

"Italy." He replies simply.

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, I got that." She speaks through gritted teeth, "But why? Why didn't you tell me?"

His calm expression is set in stone.

"Because it's none of your business."

Her eyebrows pull into a frown and she's angry and upset and beyond confused. He's speaking in riddles and it's not like him. He senses that he's upset her and he pinches the bride of his nose in a move identical to Stefan.

"Elena," His voice is smooth and soothing and it wraps around her like velvet, "You have to go."

She shakes her head, stubborn and determined to understand what's going on. She takes a step towards him and grabs his hand, hurt and betrayed at the grimace that appears on his face. She lets go quickly and is surprised to see his hands curl into fists.

"Please Damon, just tell me what's going on. I deserve an explanation for why you would just pack your stuff and leave without even_ intending_ to say goodbye." Her voice reflects the betrayal she feels.

"I need to get out of town." He remains completely at ease and shrugs softly, "I can't stay here anymore."

"Okay." She speaks steadily, trying to settle her rapidly beating heart, "I'll come with you. I just need to tell Jeremy and Jen—"

"—no." He interrupts her with a harsh rebuttal and she looks at him, hurt and confused.

"No? What do you mean?"

He closes his eyes impatiently and when he opens them, Elena is shocked at the lack of emotion in his normally expressive blue orbs.

"I mean... I don't want you to come with me."

She feels like she's been punched in the stomach and she bites the the side of her cheek, blinking.

"Damon." She takes a step towards him and this time her actions are clear and determined. She lifts her hand and places it against his cheek, feeling the smooth skin under her palm, "I don't know what's going on, but we can fix this. I know we can. You just have to tell me what's wrong. Tell me what I've done."

He shakes his head, rougly taking her hand and removing it from his face.

"You haven't _done_ anything, Elena."

She bites her trembling lip and he thinks if this is the right thing to do, it sure as hell doesn't feel like it.

"This is stupid." She insists, a small nervous laugh escaping from her lips, "This is just us being... _us._ This is what we do. We fight and we break up. That's us. That's just how it is. This is just like all those other times."

"No. It's not."

"You're being delusional, baby."

Elena's sure of herself, because this can't be it.

It simply can't.

He's being silly.

They're Elena and Damon.

They belong together.

"Goodbye Elena." He murmurs before glancing at the clock and seeing he only has fifteen minutes before boarding time. He throws her one more look she can't decipher before he turns around and begins to make his way towards the other passengers.

Elena stares at his broad, tensed shoulders and then has to look away. She concentrates on the tattered cuff of her damp sweater as she thinks of what she can do to fix this.

It's out of her mouth before she can even think to stop it.

"I love you."

It's quiet—so soft that it probably would've sounded like a gentle whisper in the wind to human ears.

But Damon's not human.

And as he turns around, his scorching eyes penetrate right through to her soul.

"What?"

She's overcome with a new confidence as she walks towards him. She knows he feels strongly for her.

Falling in love with a bad boy was so easy... surely he feels it too?

"I do." She whispers, placing a hand on his cheek and looking into his eyes. "I'm in love with you. I think I always have been."

He says nothing; just looks at her with empty eyes and pursed lips.

She reaches up, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close to her. He smells like apples and sex and leather and she buries her face in his neck—the thought that she might not experience this again causing a sudden ache in her chest.

He remains as still as a stone and it worries her, a sickening feeling forming in the pit of her stomach.

She draws back, but lets her arms remain around his neck.

"I want my life to be with you." She breathes. "You can't leave me. I love you."

She wants it to be ingrained in his mind; for it to be said so many times there's no way he can even think of doubting it. She presses her lips hard to his but he doesn't kiss her back.

_Say something_, she begs.

Anything.

Everything.

"I don't."

Her breathing hitches.

Everything hurts; everything pulses hotter than before.

"You don't love me?"

He doesn't answer and she feels like she's been kicked in the chest and the breath has literally been knocked right out of her. In those few minutes, she begins the grieving process. It begins with denial. She searches his face for a sign he's lying; anything. But there's nothing and she won't believe it. There's no way this is happening. It's just another breakup. Because she said it before, it's what they do.

They break up.

Thirteen times in the past two years.

He's flightly and she's immature and she has a temper like his jealousy. She'd scream at him and tell him he was an arrogant asshole and he'd walk away and say it was over.

But they always found their way back to each other, no matter what.

So in a few days—months if he's being particularly difficult—he'll come back and apologize and she'll make him grovel before she takes him back. But she will.

This won't be any different.

It can't be.

Because she can't imagine her life without him.

She can't imagine waking up in the morning without him beside her. She knows she'll miss him more than anything. She'll miss the way he steals the covers in his sleep and the way he always kisses the birthmark at the top of her thigh after sex. She'll miss him secretly running a bath for her because he knows she's aching and tired and how he lets her shave his face, even though she always cuts him. She'll miss his eyes and his hands and even his anger, because that makes her feel alive.

There's nowhere she'd rather be than with him, next to him, under him, all the time.

He knows it.

And yet, he doesn't even look sympathetic, guilty or remorseful.

He just watches, coldly, unemotionally, as she walks, broken, out of his life.

* * *

***sniff sniff***

**A/N: Now you know how he left, but still not really why.**

Chapter Nine is dedicated completely to the why.

**Song: Love Love Love by James Blunt**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Enjoy, my lovelies. **

**Oh and by the way, for the sake of this story, Jeremy did try and turn into a vampire like in the show, but his attempt was unsuccessful. **

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Seven

__

You trick your lovers  
That you're wicked and divine  
You may be a sinner  
But your innocence is mine

_I want to reconcile the violence in your heart  
I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask  
I want to exorcise the demons from your past  
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart._

"Why do you look so sad?" Jeremy asks, his eyebrows furrowed in innocent confusion. "Aren't brides-to-be meant to be practically bursting at the seams right now?"

Elena forces a smile, "Yeah." She waves his accusation off with a dismissive hand. "I am excited."

"Yeah. You look it."

She sighs in exasperation.

"I'm just tired, Jer." She rubs a hand over her face, "So much is going on right now. I've got the caterers and the band and the cake and the guest list and god knows what else to sort out. It's just a lot to deal with."

"Isn't Bonnie helping you? Her being matron of honor and all."

"Yeah, she's been a great help."

"What about Caroline?"

Elena visibly tenses and Jeremy raises a confused eyebrow.

"Should I be sorry for mentioning Caroline?" He asks, head tipped cautiously and he speaks as if he's treading on eggshells.

She breathes through her nose and shakes her head. "The situation with Caroline is... complicated."

"How so?"

Elena fights the urge to roll her eyes. Seriously. Could her brother be anymore nosy? Not to mention annoying. Jeez.

She struggles to come up with an excuse, "She's just totally PMSing—and you know how bad she is normally, all high-maintenance and neurotic. Well, just imagine that times a million. I can't deal with her right now."

Jeremy frowns, "Oh." He starts. "I thought it was 'cause she was banging Damon."

Elena's mouth falls open. "Wha—how do you know about that?" She manages.

"She told Matt who told Tyler who told me."

"Why would she tell Matt something like that?" She asks out loud, wondering why Caroline would throw that in his face—knowing that he's still heartbroken over their breakup a year earlier.

Jeremy shrugs. "Apparently he was being super clingy and obsessive, wanting to get back together and everything." He throws himself onto the sofa ungracefully and folds his ankles and his arms above his head, "So she just blurted out that she was seeing Damon Salvatore."

"Great."

Elena feels tired and more than a little bit queasy, so she takes a seat next to her brother.

"How are you doing?" He asks in concern. "I mean, with Damon back and all?"

She bites her lip, their kiss still ingrained in her mind.

She shrugs. "Alright, I guess." He doesn't look fooled and she sighs, "It's obviously gonna be weird. I mean, Damon was my first love. You don't really get over that. But I'm engaged to Stefan, I gave him my word."

"Don't you want to know why he left?"

_More than anything_, she thinks.

"No."

He frowns, "I sure do."

"Why? You hated him for what he did to Vicki."

"Of course I hated him—I still do. He's a freaking psychopath, you should never have been involved with him in the first place."

Elena wants to roll her eyes. Like she hasn't heard this before.

Jeremy continues. "But I'm kind of interested to know why he would just leave, when he was obviously crazy about you."

Elena bites her lip.

Her brother carries on, "It broke my heart when Vicki died. When I found out it was Damon's fault, all I wanted to do was hurt him. I wanted to hit him, to shoot him, to burn him. I wanted to kill him."

"Why didn't you?"

"Like I could." He laughs, amused and bitter at the same time.

Elena shakes her head. "No, I mean why didn't you even try? You just cut yourself off, completely stayed away from him."

"You have no idea how long I spent crazily sketching ideas and tactics and ways to bring him down." He rolls his eyes at his own stupidity, "But then I realized… the way to truly hurt the man was to hurt the woman he loved. That's the only thing that really destroys a guy—going after his girl." He feels a pang in his chest as Vicki's face pops into his mind, "But the girl in his life... was you. I saw the way he looked at you and I knew the only way I could hurt him was by hurting you. And I couldn't do that." He looks at her. "It didn't matter how angry I was at you for wiping my memory and keeping things from me, you're my sister. I could never hurt you."

Elena smiles softly as she pulls him into a hug.

He rests against her, silent and contemplative, as she runs her fingers through his hair.

"I'm not going to tell you how to live your life or what choices to make." He whispers, "You're a big girl. But I want you to know that I think Stefan's a good guy. He has his faults, sure. But he's all right. You should stick with him, sis."

Elena tips her head to the side in confusion.

"I'm marrying him, of course I'm sticking with him."

"Are you?" He turns in her lap and looks up at her with worried eyes, "I know how you felt about Damon, how much you loved him. I also know he has some kind of... power of you. But really, he's kind of an asshole." He tells her unapologetically. "It's gonna be hard, fucking impossible at times, to resist. But I trust you to do the right thing. I don't want to see you hurt again."

Elena smiles uneasily and she says nothing.

How can she, when all she wants to do—irrational as it may be—is defend him?

* * *

"I have to go away for a while."

Elena looks up from her book, confused and taken aback. She frowns, placing 'Wuthering Heights' on the bedside counter and pushing her comparisons of Heathcliff and Damon to the back of her mind. She sits up, bracing her back against the headboard and stares at Stefan's pacing form.

"What do you mean?"

He looks at her, eyes weary and bloodshot. "I need to get out of town."

_I need to get out of town. I can't stay here anymore._

"Why?" Her throat feels dry as she's overcome with the worse kind of déjà vu.

"It's not you," He cringes at the cliché. "I just need to get away. I need to think about some things."

"What do you need to think about?" She slides off the bed, her voice an accusation and her stance defensive.

He sighs and reaches out for her. She lets herself be held, convincing herself that this is not happening again… that there is a completely valid reason for why yet another Salvatore is leaving her. He holds her at arms length and looks into her eyes.

"Lately I'm finding it... difficult to control myself." He admits hoarsely. "I thought I had it under control. I haven't had a drop of human blood in years. I stupidly thought I'd maybe become immune to it." He internally kicks himself for being so naive; "There was a backpacker in the woods when I went to hunt. That's why I was gone for so long."

Elena is horrified when she realizes that he had been gone for four days and she hadn't even noticed his absence.

She's the worst kind of person, she thinks brokenly. She's a liar and a cheater. She deserves to be eaten by the Kraken or any other mystical creature as horrible.

Stefan's sigh brings her back to reality, "He'd been attacked by... something. A mountain lion, perhaps. He was crying and buried under leaves and there was just so much... blood."

Elena's heart drops, "You didn't..." She breathes.

He shakes his head quickly. "But I wanted to."

She can't help her grimace.

His grip tightens on her shoulders, "I wanted to _so badly_. I saw him... lying there... and the blood was just pooling around him and it was nearly impossible for me to resist. I wanted to... you know." His lips twitch into an embarrassed smile and he drops his head.

She places her finger under his chin and lifts his head, forcing him to look at her.

"But you didn't." She whispers, her fingers a gentle, reassuring caress along his cheek. "That's the important thing. You're strong, Stefan. So much stronger than you think."

"Maybe so." He says softly, but she sees the beginnings of veins appearing around his eyes, "But I've been exposed to human blood again and until I can get that under control, I can't be around you. Not when I'm like this."

She shakes her head. "You can't leave me."

He hates it. He hates that he has to be the person who leaves her again, especially when his brother's in town. But he can't be around him either; he's scared of what he'll do.

"It's only for a little while." He assures her, wiping a stray strand of hair from her forehead. "There's a retreat in Alaska—"

"—Alaska?" She repeats incredulously.

"They have... ways to help me. When I come back, I'll marry you and turn you and we can be together, forever. We won't have to hide anymore. Before people start to wonder why I haven't aged, we'll leave Mystic Falls and go build a new life—well, unlife—together." Where he can't find us, he adds to himself.

"Stefan, this is just... the worst timing."

"I know sweetheart." He kisses her forehead, "I'm so sorry. I just want to be the best person for you. Until I get this under control, I'm a threat and I could hurt you. I won't take that risk."

She bows her head in disbelief. This is fate; it's got to be. She understands what Stefan's saying; she even loves him for it. But she's scared—terrified of what will happen when he's not here. He's the thing that keeps her rooted, that stops her from giving in to his dark brother completely. How can she resist when he's not here to remind her of her promise? When he's not here to make her feel guilty?

"He won't hurt you." He seems to read her mind, "Damon being back is... inconvenient." She lifts her head incredulously; inconvenient isn't exactly how she would describe it, "But he won't hurt you." He repeats, "I'll never let him hurt you again."

I'm not worried about him hurting me, she wants to say, I'm worried I'll give in to him.

But Stefan's not thinking about that—it's not even an issue as far as he's concerned. He believes Elena to be a sensible, morally rooted girl—someone who loves him—someone who was so hurt by his brother that she would never make those mistakes again. He trusts her, completely and fully—something that makes her guilty heart ache.

"I've asked Bonnie to keep an eye on you, and him." Stefan tells her as if he's done her a noble, huge favor. "You'll be okay, Elena. I'll be back before you know it."

He kisses her once more on the lips.

"I love you."

She smiles a smile that's more like a grimace.

"I love you too."

And then he leaves.

* * *

"Alright." Caroline marches into the room and Elena looks up, kinking an eyebrow.

The blonde stands, hands on hips, and points an accusing finger. "This whole... giving me the cold shoulder thing, it's totally ridiculous!" She throws her arms up in exasperation, "Elena, you're my best friend. Can't we get past this?"

"Are you still sleeping with my ex-boyfriend?" She hates how crude and high school it sounds and she takes a moment to redefine her girlish notions of romance.

Caroline's eyebrows raise in shock. "Wha—" She composes herself and her face is a defensive mask that says 'I haven't done anything wrong.'

She straightens her back defiantly. "Yes."

Elena ignores the ache that forms in her chest and stands up. "Well then no." She goes to walk past her, "We can't get past this."

"When are you going to stop acting like a self-centered, selfish little bitch?" Caroline bursts and Elena stops, halted in her steps.

She scoffs incredulously, slowly turning around and watching her former friend as she bites her trembling lip.

"You are one to talk." Elena spits.

Caroline nods sarcastically and looks at her with hard eyes, "I may be a little self-absorbed, but that's how I am. That's how you've always accepted me. Hell, that's how I've always accepted myself. But you…" She takes a step towards her, "…you act like you are so much better than me. Innocent little Elena who was burned by her dark, cynical boyfriend." She rolls her eyes, "Please. What else is on? You know, you would've thought after six years you would've gotten over your need to be centre of attention."

The slap resonates throughout the mansion and everything is silent.

"Get out of my house." Elena seethes, her voice quiet and her intentions clear.

Caroline lifts her head, indignant. "No. I want to talk about this."

"Yeah? Well I don't. You have no right to come into my home and talk to me like that. You have no idea what Damon and I had. You don't understand, how could you? He doesn't care about you, don't you see that?" She raises her voice, incredulity and anger seeping into her voice.

Caroline blinks. "You don't know that."

"Oh Caroline, you really are an idiot. I know because it's obvious—because Damon doesn't care about anyone but himself. To him, you're just something to play with when he's bored," And a food source when he's hungry, she adds, recognizing the scarf Caroline wears is there to hide the bite marks she's been compelled to forget. Elena shakes her head, "He may act like he wants you, but don't kid yourself. Don't expect that Damon's ever gonna love you, or take care of you, because you're one of a hundred. You mean nothing to him."

"Like you?"

That hurts, and Elena takes the blow with a hard smile.

"What Damon and I had... it was very different from what you have with him, from what I have with Stefan. When you loved someone that much, it doesn't just go away. But our time is over."

Caroline frowns and Elena's disgusted to see some pity in her eyes.

"Do you think he loved you?"

Yes. He must have. The way he looked at her, the way he consumed her, the way he was overcome with jealousy whenever a boy tried to hit on her... how couldn't that be love?

Elena tries a noncommittal shrug, "I don't know. If he did, he didn't tell me."

"I think he did." Caroline blurts out. "I think he still does."

Elena bites the side of her cheek, "It doesn't matter now. It's too late. I—I love Stefan."

The blonde furrows her brows. "Do you?"

Elena rolls her eyes, refusing to dignify that question with an answer. The kiss before was a mistake. It was a momentary lapse of judgment caused by the fact that she'd spent six years missing him. It won't happen again, she tells herself. She refuses to be sucked into Damon Salvatore's complicated heart again.

"I'm not talking about this with you." She says, her jaw set. "And, if I'm not mistaken, I think I asked you to leave."

Caroline walks towards her, grabbing her arm and pulling her onto the sofa before she can protest. Elena huffs, but is too tired to argue. She watches, annoyed and frustrated, as Caroline grabs a chair and places it opposite Elena, turning it until she is straddling the seat and leaning her elbows on the top.

"I don't want to fight with you anymore. I also don't want to break up with Damon—" Elena opens her mouth to say something, but closes it when she sees Caroline's raised eyebrows. "—even though we're not technically together. I'm also not stupid enough to think he loves me or that he'll even grow to love me. But he makes me feel... alive, and you're just gonna have to deal with that."

Elena sighs.

"…okay."

Caroline tips her head in confusion and Elena takes a deep breath.

"Okay." She says again, a small shrug lifting her shoulders, "I'm engaged to Stefan and Damon and I have been over for a long time, it's unfair of me to keep you from seeing him, even if I think it's a bad idea. He'll only hurt you, but whatever. Your mistake."

Caroline nods, knowing she's not going to get any better than that.

They sit for a few moments; two friends thinking about what brings them together and what tears them apart.

It's three minutes before Caroline breaks the silence.

"How are you doing, Elena?"

"Okay." Elena leans back against the sofa, "There's so much to do, you know? Bonnie's busy and Matt's the best man so he's busy too and—"

"—that's great." Caroline interrupts. "But I asked how you were doing, Elena."

Elena purses her lips; wanting to tell her everything because it's weighing her down. But she can't. She can't tell her about the vampires and witches and blood and death. She shakes her head and sighs.

"Sometimes I feel... obligation." She whispers and blinks back her tears; she's been crying too much lately. "Like I'm only with Stefan because he saved me. And then I feel terrible."

"What do you mean he saved you?"

"He was the one who picked me up after Damon left. I was a mess. He helped me start over."

Caroline nods. "That doesn't mean you have to stay with him. You don't owe him anything, Elena."

"I can't leave him, he needs me. Plus he's so kind and gentle and he can give me everything I need." She insists. "Sometimes I look at him and I see the man I fell in love with. And I'm transformed into someone that loves him."

"But that's only sometimes?"

Elena sighs and when she looks at her, Caroline doesn't see the Elena she knew. This Elena is tired and cynical and nothing like the happy go lucky girl she used to know. She wonders if Damon is the reason and then she wonders if he knows just how much he destroyed this girl. Caroline doubts it.

When Caroline reaches out, Elena lets herself be held and lets herself bury her head in her shoulder.

She thinks about the Salvatore brothers.

Stefan is sweet, caring and kind. He loves her for her. He's the obvious choice. She shouldn't even be thinking about this.

But Damon...

Damon would die for her. He calls her out when she's being an idiot and he challenges her and surprises her.

He sets her on fire.

* * *

**A/N: I know this is kinda boring, sorry about that. It's a bit of a filler, but necessary. There's nothing I'd like more than for them to have hot crazy sex every chapter, but I guess I need to have some plot in there too. *sigh***

**Song: Undisclosed Desires by Muse  
**

**Seriously perfect for Elena's feelings regarding Damon.**


	8. Chapter 8

** A/N: Why yes, I am updating within a day, aren't I nice? **

**Why don't you reward me by giving me a lovely review? ;) **

**

* * *

**

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Eight

_Your love has set my soul on fire_  
_Spinning out of control_  
_You taught me the ways of desire_  
_Now it's taking it's toll_  
_You're the right sinner to release my inner fantasy_  
_The invincible winner_  
_And you know that you were born to please._

_You're a heartbreaker_  
_Dream maker, love taker_  
_Don't you mess around with me. _

Damon lays on his bed, irritated and hungry and seriously horny.

His fingers curl into the sheets, his eyes closed and his body rigid with self control.

The reason for his discomfort is simple.

Elena is taking a shower.

Right next door.

Close enough that he can hear her pulse.

Her heartbeat.

Water hitting her slick, slender body.

It's physically painful.

Being this close but not being able to touch her.

Years ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about surprising her and pulling back the curtain, jumping in with her.

They'd have hot, wet, vampire sex against the wall of the shower.

A soft body arching.

Hard planes of a chest tensing.

Hips meeting, striking, dominating.

Hot breath, panting in his ear.

Nails scraping down his back.

Smooth legs wrapped around his waist.

He clenches his eyes tightly shut as he remembers her frenzied gasps of pleasure, her moans, her groans, every little noise she makes. He remembers them as if they were yesterday. It's gotten worse since they'd kissed; since he'd tasted her again.

She's singing now; loudly, unaware, _terribly._

He chuckles under his breath, her atrocious voice momentarily distracting him from the thoughts about her wet, naked body.

Only momentarily.

His sensitive ears hear her sigh under the hot water and he imagines the droplets running down her arms, her legs, her chest, her sex.

He rolls over, groaning into the pillow.

It's torture.

* * *

"I'm getting married in 13 days."

"No. You're not."

Elena rolls her eyes. "Damon, don't be childish. I'm marrying him and there's nothing you can do about it."

"You're infuriating; I know you don't want him."

"You know nothing."

"Oh really? I know that you love Heathcliff from 'Wuthering Heights.' I know that you hate Cathy because she was a self-centred, jealous, immature little bitch." He throws his hands up at her expression. "Your words." He smirks infectiously before carrying on. "I know you hate it when the covers are wrapped round your ankles and I know you sleep with the lights on because you're terrified of the dark."

She's shaken by the fact that he remembers all this.

"I know you love pancakes, but hate syrup. I know you try to read exactly nineteen pages of a book every night before you go to bed. I know everything about you, little girl."

Elena snorts. "You really want to play this game?"

Damon sends her a seductive grin, leaning back on the sofa and daring her to produce something better.

"I know you hate being a vampire." He begins to protest, but she silences him with one look, "You say you like being the eternal stud, but I know you hate not being able to grow old."

"We weren't built to last." He shrugs simply.

"I know you never really cared about me."

"Debatable."

"No. How could you when you fuck everything that touches you?"

His eyebrows raise in surprise. "What a dirty mouth you have."

She ignores him and moves on.

"I know you pretend to hate Stefan."

"No pretense here."

She sighs. "You don't hate your brother, Damon."

"Hate is a very underestimated emotion."

She walks in large circles and he watches her as she wears a hole in his carpet.

"I know you're originally Italian and therefore fluent." She sees him smirk at that.

"_Da giovane, ho imparato l'inglese rimorchiando le turiste Americane_." The words roll off his tongue beautifully, sensual and seductive, and he's fully aware of the effect his Italian has on her... when they were together, she'd make him speak it everyday.

She shakes her head, clearing her mind.

"I know you're never satisfied." She turns to look at him, hands on hips. "What _does _makes you happy, Damon?"

"Plenty of things. A Mustang, John Lennon, Blood." He draws the last word out, his tongue wrapping around it seductively. She turns away. "I'd be happy if you let me take you upstairs and I'd be happy if we went and had sex sixteen times."

She rolls her eyes but can't deny the spark that travels down her spine.

"Pain." He blurts out suddenly. "Pain makes me happy."

She bites her lip and shakes her head.

"You say pain makes you happy," Her voice is a whisper, "And yet you run from it every chance you get."

"Referring to my departure again, are we?"

"Why would you think that?" She's got him trapped, "Unless leaving me brought you pain?"

She sounds almost... _hopeful_ and he has to look away, disgruntled.

She changes the subject.

"While we're playing this fun little game, I might as well add, you know you're disliked everywhere you go and you welcome it. I've never understood that."

His blue eyes glint mischief.

"I kind of always preferred to be hated." He chuckles. "The man you love to hate. Some black-clad leather demon."

"You're crazy."

He says nothing; just tips his head with a sly smirk, his eyes studying her closely.

She quietens then, her mind processing.

She speaks.

"Are you going to tell me why you left?"

"No."

"Why?"

"What's the point in dwelling on the past?"

"I need to know."

"It wont change anything."

"It'll help me move on. Do you care about that? Do you care about my happiness?"

They're delving into dangerous territory and Damon stands up, prepared to leave.

"As much as I'm thriving on this heart to heart, I have stuff to do." Caroline's face flickers through her mind and the hot waves of jealousy lick at her insides.

She stares at his retreating back as she mutters. "You gonna walk out again?" She lets out a bitter laugh. "Figures."

Damon pinches the bridge of his nose, turning around slowly.

"What do you want from me, Elena?"

She blinks.

"The truth. For once. Do you think you could handle that?"

"You're pushing your luck."

His voice is a smooth warning and it sends a shiver down her spine.

He takes a step towards her. Elena inhales sharply, stepping backwards until she's trapped between the wooden door of the living room and Damon's strong body. The vampire places his right hand next to her head, leaning into her body.

"You're being unfair." She whispers, knowing he's fully aware of the effect he has on her body.

He leans forward, his nose brushing against the skin of her cheek.

"No. You are."

"How?" She breathes incredulously, her eyelids fluttering when he exhales on her blushed skin.

He places his other hand next to her head and she's alarmed when she realizes she's trapped.

"You're already engaged to him, you've made your point." He pulls back and looks into her eyes, his body too close. "You don't have to marry him. I know you're trying to make me jealous."

She scoffs, turning her cheek and regretting it when he nuzzles his face in the crook of her neck, "Not everything is about you."

"It should be." He insists and she turns back to him, confused. "Everything in your world should be about me."

She shakes her head. "You are, without a doubt, the most self-centred person I have ever had the displeasure to meet. I'm not trying to make you jealous, Damon. We all know how _that_ turns out."

"You love it." He tells her, his blue eyes burning into her brown ones. "You used to pretend you didn't. You used to cry and complain and scream at me..." He rolls his eyes playfully.

"Because you're a _vampire_." She exclaims. "Your jealousy isn't just annoying or unsettling—it's dangerous."

He smirks, biting his perfect lip. "You're being dramatic."

Elena stares, "Oh really? Do you even remember what you did to Matt Donovan?"

He tips his head, racking his brain.

"You broke his jaw." She reminds him.

His blue eyes flash with amused recognition, "Ah yes. That'll teach him for trying to kiss you."

"You overreacted. He was my ex-boyfriend. He was still in love with me—" She stops when she sees Damon's expression darken in a silent warning, "—my point is... you should've trusted me. You should've known I would never even _look_ at another boy."

"Because you were mine."

"Because I was yours."

He feels a rush of desire at her words and his hips involuntarily push themselves towards hers.

"Damon..." She hisses lowly when their lower halves meet. Her hands find their way to his chest, simultaneously pushing him away and pulling him closer.

"You thrived on my jealousy." He leans his head down and his lips meet her collarbone. "You used to deliberately test me. You knew how to push my buttons. You loved it." His tongue traces circles on her skin.

She ignores the sudden ache between her legs_—__traitor—_and shakes her head

"Don't try and put this on me. It's not my fault you were a controlling, insecure asshole."

"Insecure? Baby, you've called me a lot of things... I don't think insecure was ever one of them." He loses control for a moment, sucking on her skin and leaving his mark. She tips her head back, a subconscious groan falling from her lips.

He bites back his own moan as her hips push into his.

"I may have... enjoyed your jealousy," She admits and he draws back, surprised, looking at her with dark, hooded eyes. "But that's only because it meant you felt something for me—that there was something more behind your careless teasing."

"You thought I didn't want you?"

"Apart from your _jealousy_," She uses the word again, "There was no other sign that you did."

His blue eyes shine with disbelief.

"No-one will ever want you more than I do."

She breathes, shocked and humbled at the same time, and she notices how everything has suddenly changed to the present tense.

"And you want me too." He adds. "You can try to deny it and you can try to put a stop to it with a diamond ring, but it won't change the fact. My little brother is vanilla. He can't satisfy you, _che_ _idiota_. You're darker, sexier, spicier. In terms of lust, you're my other half."

His voice is velvet, dangerously dark, and his entire body is pressed against her, hot on cold.

"Don't talk like that." She whispers, her hand feeling over his chest, searching for the heartbeat she knows she'll never find. "It won't change anything."

Their foreheads touch, their noses brush, and the air dances in the gap between them. He's so close.

His lips gently brush over hers and her eyes flutter close. He tenderly kisses the corner of her lips and pulls back, looking into her torn eyes. She licks her lips slightly, immediately missing the heat of his soft kiss. He searches her face, looking for a something, and he hates that all he sees is guilt. She should never have to feel bad about this.

About them.

"Relax." He breathes against her mouth. "We're connected. Give in to me. I want you."

She moans into his mouth, empowered and giddy at his words. Stefan's face flashes through her mind, only briefly, before her fingers tangle into Damon's hair. He removes one hand from the wall and to her cheek.

She throws him a faint smile, silently giving her permission and letting his lips gently lock over hers. It's slow and passionate, and it's only now that she realises how much she's missed him.

"God." She shudders when they break way.

He smiles gently and when he leans forward to capture her lips again, she looks into his eyes.

"I've missed you." She whispers.

He kisses her lips again, softly, gently, as if they've got all the time in the world, when they both know that's the furthest thing from the truth.

"I missed you too." He whispers honestly and his voice is husky, passionate.

She's the one to initiate it this time and he's stunned when their lips lock in a passionate kiss. It was supposed to be soft, innocent—just to say goodbye, just so she can begin to let go. But now she's tasted him, she needs him. She needs to feel his body next to hers. She needs to feel him inside her again, it's been too long.

His lips move to her neck and she tips her head to the side, her eyes fluttering close. His tongue gently sponges the soft kisses that he leaves behind and she desperately wants to moan his name. But she doesn't. Because if she does, she'll have to admit that this is happening. If she doesn't say his name then maybe she can imagine that it's Stefan kissing her neck tenderly.

But her heart is telling her that she doesn't even want to pretend.

Because truthfully, she knows it's Damon... and she's _thrilled_ it's Damon.

She grips onto his shoulders desperately as he kisses her frenziedly, passionately over and over again. She doesn't want to let go, she doesn't want to forget. She wants to hold on to this moment forever.

Her heart pounds wildly in her chest as his tongue fights with hers.

He wants her heart.

He doesn't just want her for the night—he wants her forever.

Though he's thankful for her touch, her kiss, he can't help but feel desperately sad, angry... bitter.

Because he knows he's lost her heart—broken it too many times.

And all he can think about is how much he hates his little brother.

He hates him with such a fierce intensity it makes him quiver.

He wants to hurt him, he wants to break him, he wants to fucking kill him for daring to take her away from him.

She's his.

Always has been.

Always will be.

This is right.

Damon's tongue fights with hers and when she feels his hard length against her thigh, she's brought back to reality. Stefan's name flashes in her mind like a Vegas neon light and she gasps, pushing him away and feeling panic rise in her chest.

"No." She breathes, horrified she gave into him again. What is she doing? Why is she making this so easy for him? "No. I won't let you hurt me again. This can't be happening." She _needs_ to stay strong, to have a little bit of self-control, for god's sake.

"Elena..."

"Get away from me!" She explodes. "God, why are you here? Why are you_ still_ here? Can't you see what you're doing to me? You're reducing me to a liar, a cheater! You're killing me."

Damon's expression hardens.

"Fine." He spits. "Go to him."

She stares at him through tear-filled eyes. "What?"

"Fuck Elena, I don't need this. Why don't you just leave? _Non__ me ne fotte un cazzo,_ little girl. I don't _care_."

"This is my house!" She shouts.

"No." He remains neutral. "My baby brother might've had the balls to ask you to move in, but don't for a second think this is your house. You are here because I allow you to be here. I think you'll find it's my name on the deeds."

"Throw me out then." She dares.

He rolls his eyes. "Stop being such a drama queen. Why don't you just find my brother and marry him? Maybe one day he'll be able to fuck as well as I do."

"You're disgusting." She spits. "God, I hate you. I hate you so much."

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

"I'm over this." She scorns, turning around and making her way towards the door.

Damon stares at her, knowing he has to do something, knowing that if he lets her walk out, he'll lose her. She'll do exactly what he told her to do.

What she doesn't know is that it was an empty threat.

He sighs, kicking himself for being such a pussy, and before he can stop himself he's saying the words she's waited to hear.

"Elena... I'm ready to tell you why I left."

* * *

**Song: Heartbreaker by Pat Benatar**

**A/N: He's totally sexy enough to pull off this song**

**Translation:**

**When I was young, I learned English while attempting to seduce American tourists.**

**And hopefully _Non__ me ne fotte un cazzo _means 'I don't give a fuck.'**

**Cut me some slack, I know it's most likely very, very wrong! Review please! :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: A little insight into Damon's complicated mind.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Nine

_Maybe I'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time_  
_Maybe I'm afraid of the way I leave you_  
_Maybe I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time_  
_Maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you_  
_Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you_

_Maybe I'm a man, maybe I'm a lonely man_  
_Who's in the middle of something_  
_That he doesn't really understand_  
_Maybe I'm a man and maybe you're the only woman_  
_Who could ever help me_  
_Baby won't you help me understand_

The fire burns in the distance; flickering embers that dance together until they are fiercely consumed by each other. Elena thinks she knows what it's like to be burned. It's dark, darker than the boarding house has ever been and lightning flashes in the distance. It's all so dramatic, so maudlin and so very fitting.

Damon sits on the couch, a glass of whiskey in one hand and an expression unreadable to her on his face. She's made sure to put a considerable distance between them as she sits curled up on the leather chair, the fire warming her back and the candles illuminating one side of her face.

She sits as patiently as she can, but it's not long before her curiosity is blazing; becoming almost painful and she fears she may burst if he stays quiet for much longer.

He seems to read her mind.

"It was the night before that did it for me."

Elena racks her brain, searching through the painful memories she won't let herself think about, until she comes to the night before he crushed her. She nods silently, nail-bitingly cautious, scared that if she says the wrong thing, he'll walk away and leave her hanging—teetering off the edge.

"It was your witch friend..." He searches for her name. "Bonnie. It was her birthday."

He chuckles under his breath at something indecipherable to Elena. "I hated you for dragging me out that night. Seriously, there was nothing I hated more than mingling with your small-minded, stupid high school friends. But I guess you've always been... _persuasive_."

Her cheeks blossom into a cherry red as she remembers just how she persuaded him—straddling, tongues, teeth, lips, blood, passion.

He smirks at her hot blush.

"You were wearing this little black number." His eyes sparkle as he twirls his drink in his hand, the liquid splashing against the edge of the glass. "You knew it made me crazy."

She bows her head and bites her lip, both embarrassed and empowered at his admission.

"I swear when you walked out of my bedroom and asked how you looked, I wanted to march you back in there and show you_ exactly_ what I thought." He chuckles at the shudder that sparks through her. "Of course I always found you irresistible, but that night was just ridiculous. I found myself wanting to touch you, all the time. Even if it was just the tips of our fingers... I wanted to be near you. It was fucking infuriating."

She pulls her knees closer to her chest; hearing about his desire for her causes a rush between her legs and pleasurable as it may be, she wants him to get to the good—well, not good—but the part that she wants to know. The reason why.

He takes a sip of his drink, the liquid burning his throat and leaving a harsh sting in its wake.

"You were angry at me. You were annoyed at how I just took myself off in a corner and wouldn't talk to anyone. I believe you bit my head off for not even trying, when the last thing I wanted to do was talk to a bunch of moronic, idiotic quarterbacks. I couldn't talk to you either. I wanted to make a point; that you were a fool to even try and control me. I couldn't go near you, but I could hear your pulse and smell your blood from the other side of the room. It drove me crazy, but I wanted to stay away from you until you came crawling back to me and apologized and promised I'd never have to go to one of these painfully boring events again. But, as usual, you surprised me."

He chuckles; a dark, sexy sound that makes her clench her thighs together.

"You didn't even seem to care. You just stayed with your friends and didn't even spare me a glance. It angered me, but I was also extremely proud of you in that moment. Only for a moment though. Because then you started talking to a boy who was probably quite intimidating to most of the pathetic male population at your school but who I could crush with a flick of my wrist. You were smiling that smile that's only for me and touching your hair and touching his arm. I knew you were doing it to make me jealous and I hated you for it. You'd send me coy little looks from the corner of your eye and it pissed me off that you were so good at playing with me."

She bites the corner of her lip, remembering exactly what had happened and secretly gleeful that her cunning plan had worked.

"By the time I heard him say he thought you were beautiful, I had to reign in my anger. I wouldn't kill him in front of a room full of people, but I was furious you would let him call you that. I was the only one who was allowed to appreciate your beauty. I was the only one who was allowed to appreciate you at all. I think by then you realized you'd made your point and went to walk away. But he grabbed your elbow and that's when I lost my temper. I stood up, ready to show him you were off limits, but I was stopped."

The husky tone of his voice makes her close her eyes as she waits patiently for him to reveal who foiled his plans.

"I don't know who the boy was," He starts, absentmindedly running a finger along the edge of his glass. "But he stood next to me and made a horrible comment about you. I doubt I need to go into details."

But at Elena's hurt expression, he rolls his eyes and figures that's exactly what he must do.

"Don't look so wounded. It wasn't a hurtful or spiteful comment. It was lewd and suggestive and fucking inappropriate. I turned to him and asked him if he was new, because it was just universally accepted that you were mine—you were off limits. He nodded and did a fist pump and said something I didn't understand about a football team I didn't care about in an overly loud, obnoxious voice."

"Timberwolves." Elena speaks for the first time, her voice husky and quiet. "I think the boy was Jake Allighan, he had just joined the school and already become the team's top quarterback. Our football team was called the Timberwolves."

"I don't care who he was." Damon waves a dismissive hand. "All I know is that when he said you had an 'ass to die for', I wanted to rip his throat out."

He adds a quick "I didn't." when he sees her expression.

"But I did put my fist through his mouth." He smirks and she rolls her eyes. "It didn't really register because I was out the door with him before he could hit the floor. We were in the alley outside Bonnie's house and I threw him on the ground, bleeding and blubbering. He was truly pathetic."

"You didn't have to hit him."

"Don't interrupt me." He scowls and she rolls her eyes. He carries on. "So he was on the floor, writhing about, holding his nose and screaming about how it was broken and overall making a big fuss. I picked him up by the collar and stood him up, watching as he swayed on drunk legs. He looked at me and said something like 'What the hell man?'"

Damon does his best impersonation of the deep, empty-headed jock voice Elena's all too familiar with, and she can't help the small smile that curls the corners of her red lips.

"Yes. I may have overreacted, but I was hungry and you had pissed me off. He threw a punch at me which I found more amusing than irritating and when I caught his fist, he grimaced and looked like he was going to cry. He tried kicking me and then his eyes widened with fear when I flashed my fangs. He started crying. It was downright pitiful. His blood was pumping under his skin and gushing through his nose, but I smelled that it was laced with salt and alcohol and decided he was too unappealing. I was just about to compel him to forget when he said something that made my blood run cold."

Elena sits up, her feet touching down onto the soft rug as she sits on the edge of her seat.

Damon sighs; taking a huge gulp of his drink and finishing it, placing it down on the counter with a hard clink.

"He kept saying he was sorry and he didn't realize I was your boyfriend. I told him I wasn't."

She bites back her disappointment.

"He didn't hear me. He just kept blubbering about how he was new and he didn't understand and he was so fucking... _stupido_. And _annoying_. His whiny voice started to hurt my ears. I grabbed his head with both hands, but before I could twist, he screamed 'What are you, in love with her or something?' and I nearly choked on thin air." He rolls his eyes.

Elena feels her heart pounding and her stomach quivers.

He sighs. "I threw him backwards. He hit the wall and cried some more. I asked him why he would think that. I was curious myself. The snotty kid just kept sobbing. He was too hysterical to answer me. I compelled him to tell me what made him think such a thing, what was I doing that made it seem like I was a man in love? He vacantly told me that you'd have to be blind not to see it. The way I protected you, the way I was protective _of_ you, the way I looked at you, everything about me screamed it. I admit, I was a little shaken. For the first time in my life, I was genuinely uncomfortable. I compelled him again, this time to forget, and sent him on his way."

His face gives little away and she swallows nervously, aware that he hasn't denied it but also aware that he hasn't got to the part where he tells her the reason why he left her.

She feels her heart tug painfully.

"I went back inside. I think I was like a zombie, confused and fucking overwhelmed. I walked past you, ignored you when you reached out for me and felt nothing at the wounded look on your face. I just walked until I found the witch's parents' drink cabinet. I drank half a bottle of scotch, just to calm myself down. So obviously now you could add drunk to my list of spiraling emotions. I figured I should have expected this; you meet, you date, you learn, you grow, you love. That's the natural order of things. But I was never natural... and I was never loving."

She's rooted to the spot by her anxiety and he removes his leather jacket, casually tossing it to the side.

"When I went back to the party, you were there and you tried to take my hand... but I couldn't look at you. I just tossed you aside and didn't care about the hurt look on your face or the serious stink eye I was getting from the witch. I needed to get you out of my mind. I felt sick. I wandered around for a bit, biting my fist, pulling at my hair, doing all sorts of dick things to try and push you to the back of my mind. But you stayed there like a fucking siren."

He shakes his head, knowing that what comes next is going to hurt.

"I went upstairs. I went into a bedroom; I think it was Bonnie's. It wasn't empty. I saw a girl—not any girl. It was Anna. The vampire chick from 1864. She was sitting on the bed and she looked like she'd been crying. She looked up and said hey and before I knew it, I was sitting next to her. Then she just blurted out, 'Are you in love with Elena?' and I told her to mind her own fucking business."

Elena bites the side of her cheek; waiting, praying.

"She looked at me. She told me she knew what it was like to love someone who'll never love you back. I thought about that, about you never loving me... and it felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. But I get the feeling she wasn't talking about us because she starting muttering about Jeremy and Vicki and second choice and teenage drama shit like that. Then she kissed me. Just like that."

Elena's eyebrows rise as she feels her stomach drop.

Damon bites his lip. "It wasn't sexy. It wasn't even good. I felt weird. Appearance wise, she was young—but I guess that doesn't mean anything when you're a vampire."

"Right." Elena breathes incredulously, angrily. "_That's_ why you felt weird. Not because you were betraying me or anything."

"Fuck Elena, don't look at me like that. I wanted to sleep with her. I wanted to prove to myself, and to you, that I had a choice—that I wasn't tied down or crippled by a promise or commitment to you. I did what I wanted, when I wanted. I didn't like how you were changing that about me. So I kissed her back. She was crying and I was thinking of you and I was sick of the vulnerability that boy had recognized in me."

She feels tears pooling in her eyes and he sees, yet doesn't stop. She asked for the truth.

"I wanted to hurt you." He says, his eyes blazing. "I wanted to punish you for making me feel this way. I thought about the fire in your eyes when you were jealous and it drove me to wanting more. I wanted to see it, I wanted to break you and I craved your jealousy. Anna was fucking messed up. She was muttering that she wanted to pretend I was Jeremy and that pissed me off. I'd never been with a girl who wasn't seeing me, wanting me, needing me. But I guessed I would be a contradiction if I got angry, because I was seeing you, after all."

Elena lets a tear fall down her cheek—she can't hear this.

"I know I'm hurting you." He knows her so well, it makes her ache. "But you need to hear this. She was kissing me and rubbing against me and the thought of you was what made me hard. I looked down at her, spread beneath Bonnie's pillow, and all I could think about was you. It pissed me off. I tried to shake your image to the back of my mind. But I was kissing your lips, staring into your eyes, feeling your legs around me, your voice in my ear. It was enough to drive me crazy. I pulled away from her in despair because it was the first time I hadn't gone through with fucking someone... and it was all because of you. Because you were the only one I wanted."

Elena covers her mouth, concealing her sobs and feeling salt on her tongue. His blue eyes scorch into hers.

"Don't you see?" He whispers, the corners of his lips twitching into an uneasy smile. "I left because I was afraid."

Elena shakes her head, frustrated. "Of what?"

"You!" He raises his voice, "For the first time in my life, I was scared of something—of you and the way you made me feel. You, fragile little human Elena, had reduced me to someone who would do anything just to keep you. I knew I would do anything for you—fight for you, kill for you, fucking crawl for you. It terrified me and empowered me at the same time."

"You're a coward." She shakes her head, terribly furious at him for throwing away what they had_—what they could've had_—just because he was _scared_.

Now it's too late.

"Elena, you were a blossoming young woman... what kind of a life could I offer you?" With him, she would've been forced into a life of skulking in the shadows, hiding from the world... and the selfless martyr side of him knew he had to let her go. "So now you know. I left because I thought it was the right thing to do. I had to get away because I could tell I was falling too deep and I knew how Stefan felt about you and there was no way in _hell_ I'd let you be another Katherine. I told you I didn't love you because one, I didn't—and still don't—know exactly what love is and two, because I thought it would help you let go. Yes. Damon Salvatore, self-serving psychopath with no redeeming qualities was actually thinking about _you _and _your_ feelings. Like I said, you changed me."

They remain quiet.

Silent.

All these years, she had thought herself forgotten by him; tossed aside. Now she knows, he's suffered as much as she has.

Somehow she doesn't feel any better.

But although she's thankful she now knows why he left, things are different now and he was right; it doesn't change anything.

She has Stefan now. She's made a promise to Stefan. His love is simple, unchanging, forever.

Damon's love will eat her alive, something strange and beautiful.

An eerie feeling settles over her.

Everything's up in the air.

Everything's been changed, irrevocably.

And Elena has the feeling that this is just the beginning.

* * *

**Song: Maybe I'm Amazed by Paul McCartney**

**A/N: Perfect song, I mixed and matched some of the lyrics because they're all so perfect and I picked the ones that most suited Damon and his feelings.**

**Angel's blue eyed girl, your review had me grinning like crazy. I seriously love your stories—the damon/elena ones and the buffy/angel ones—and I'm SO happy and flattered you're enjoying this :) ChanelForReal, your review had me laughing too ;) **

**That being said, I seriously adore all of your reviews. I'm always nervous about putting chapters up and it's great to read that people are liking my story :) **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Bit shorter than usual, but a lot more dramatic.**

**It's the one you've been waiting for next!**

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Ten

_I finished crying in the instant that you left  
And I can't remember where or when or how  
You were history with the slamming of the door  
And I made myself so strong again somehow  
And I banished every memory you and I had ever made_

_But when you touch me like this_  
_And you hold me like that_  
_I just have to admit_  
_That it's all coming back to me now_

Elena paces her room, hands behind her neck and teeth furiously biting into her lip. The conversation she had with Damon mere hours ago is deeply ingrained in her mind, every word and every sound spiraling around her head like a kaleidoscope of worry and foreboding.

What does this mean?

What happens now?

Is she supposed to get some sort of closure from this?

No.

This isn't something that can just be closed, she knows that.

Will things change? Will Damon be changed? Will _she_ be changed?

Yes. No. Definitely.

She lets out a frustrated cry, her fingers tangling into her hair as she feels like throwing something. She tells herself to calm down, her breath releasing in soft, slow sighs as she lowers herself onto her bed.

The wedding is in less than two weeks and she feels like she's sinking fast.

"Grow up." She mutters to herself. She's not sixteen years old anymore. She's not some lovesick little girl blinded by Damon's charm and beauty. She's a grown up now, dammit.

She groans, placing her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. She needs sleep. Purplish bruises mottle the skin under her eyes and she feels her entire body becoming heavier and sluggish. But she can't find the rest she's desperately longing for.

Every time she closes her eyes, she sees him.

She remembers how she felt when he left—sometimes the memory of that pain is the only thing that grounds her.

The first few days were the worst.

It began with denial—a refusal to accept this was even happening. She would spend all her time at the boarding house, ignoring Stefan and staying in Damon's room, waiting for him to return. She didn't cry. She didn't even acknowledge the fact that he might not be coming back—it was inconceivable to her. Her friends would come over, worried and anxious, asking—begging—for her to let them take her out somewhere. But Elena would refuse; she wanted to be here when he came back.

After a while, denial turned into anger. She left him voicemails, calling him every name under the sun, hurling insults she didn't even mean. She threw things, lashed out at the people she loved and punished Stefan the most... because he reminded her of Damon.

Next came bargaining. She begged Stefan to find him, to seek him out and bring him back to her. Begging, wishing, praying that he would come back. That didn't last long and bargaining quickly turned into depression.

She locked herself away. She couldn't eat, couldn't drink, couldn't sleep—could barely function. She constantly felt like she was under water—weak and broken and feeling like she couldn't breathe. She felt like she'd lost a part of her—like she was only half of a whole now he was gone. She wanted to move on, she really did... but she couldn't get past it—she was stuck. She felt empty, hopeless, helpless, worthless. Soon she was too tired to even cry.

Acceptance was slow in coming. It began months after he left and went on for years. Slowly but surely, she came to terms with the fact that Damon wasn't coming back. Stefan helped, staying with her when she lashed out at him and holding her through the particularly tough times. Her only comfort was the fond memories she had, and she replayed them over and over, never wanting to forget.

Her mind drifts off and when she imagines Damon standing in a beautiful suit at the end of the altar, she humors herself.

And she sleeps happily, soundly.

* * *

"Why are you so cruel to me?"

Damon looks down at the woman in his arms, his brow furrowed.

"I'm very generous to you, actually." His mouth tips up in a smirk as he trails his fingers down her side and memories of that same mouth down _there _flash in her mind.

Caroline rolls her eyes. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Then what did you mean? Don't hold back on me now."

She sighs, biting her lip nervously. "Contrary to what you might think, I'm not stupid." She looks up at him, blue eyes sparkling indignantly. "I know you're here for Elena."

"_Elena_ is engaged to my baby brother." The sentence makes him feel sick and he suppresses a shiver.

She tips her head. "I know that." The sheet slips down and she uses the hand that isn't resting on his muscular chest to pull it up over her naked body. "But I also know that... you watch her. I doubt you know how much."

He remains silent and turns away, his hands cold on her heated skin.

She turns away too, pursing her lips. "I'm just wondering why you bother to even keep me around. You're so cold to me all the time. You don't even care about me. Is it just to get to her?"

Damon places a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"What do you want me to say, Caroline?" He asks, both expression and voice hard. "Do you want me to say it's because I love you? Let's not be delusional here. You and I both know this isn't a permanent thing."

He can tell his words hurt and he wonders how this girl could've fallen for him when he'd been nothing but an asshole to her. He really is irresistible, he thinks with a smirk.

"Are you in love with her?" She whispers, terrified of the answer.

He frowns. "That..." He pushes her away, standing up and not bothering to hide his nakedness. "...Is none of your business."

She laughs humorlessly, stretching her tired body. "Can't deny it, can you?"

"Of course I can." He steps into a pair of discarded jeans.

She quirks an eyebrow. "Go ahead." She motions with a hand. "Give me an answer."

"Yes. No. Definitely. John Lennon."

"I don't want to know who the best Beatle is."

He chuckles. "More inclined towards McCartney?"

"I don't particularly give a shit." She scowls. "Why can't you just give me a _real_ answer? Is it because you're afraid?"

She's pinned underneath him in less than a second, she's hit a sore subject.

"I'm not afraid of anything, little girl." He murmurs darkly.

She stares up at him. "Then tell me you're not in love with her."

"It really is none of your business. You're little more than an entertainment to me."

Pain kicks at her stomach. "Just say it."

"I'm not in love with her."

"You're lying."

He doesn't respond and before Caroline can think to do anything else, he's out the door.

* * *

"Not talking to me now?"

Elena sighs, scrubbing a china plate vigorously.

"It's not intentional." She insists.

Damon tips his head, an eyebrow raised. He sits at the table, an apple in one hand and a mug of blood by his side.

"Things are different now, aren't they?" He says. "You can't deny us anymore."

She makes an effort to keep her tone light as she wipes at a piece of stubborn spaghetti. "There's no 'us' _to_ deny. You made sure of that when you left."

"As long as you want me, there'll always be an us."

"What if I said I didn't want you?" She counters, fighting the urge to turn around and look at him.

He bites into the apple casually. "Well then that would be a lie."

"You're insufferable." She rolls her eyes and picks up another dirty plate. "Why is your blood in a mug?" She changes the subject and although her back is still to him and she can't see him, she remembers him pouring the blood bag into a mug and thinking how ridiculous it looked.

He glances towards the cup. "Did you just expect me to rip into the bag? I'm not an animal, Elena." He teases with a smirk she can't see.

She rolls her eyes again. "Why don't you just hunt?"

"I haven't killed a human in..." He searches his mind. "...much, _much_ too long."

She wants to ask why, but contains herself.

"So when _are_ you going to leave my little brother slash sorry excuse for a vampire?" He asks casually, finishing the apple and throwing the core into the bin with a graceful ease that comes only from living for over a century.

Elena finishes cleaning the last dish and turns around, leaning against the counter and removing her rubber gloves. "Never." She replies with a voice just as casual.

"Come on Elena, you don't have to do this anymore." He insists with eyes so mischievous she raises both eyebrows. "You've made your point. You know why I left. Come away with me, we can start again."

She snorts. "No."

He stands up. "Why not? We're good together."

"We're terrible together."

"Don't be absurd. Have you forgotten what I feel like inside you?"

She shivers. "Don't be so crude."

"Would you like me to remind you?"

He walks towards her, his actions strangely feline, a predator approaching his prey.

"You know nothing's going to happen." Her voice falters. "I have Stefan. I made a promise to him and I gave him my word."

"And your word's kind of meaningless now, don't you think?"

Their previous kisses flash in her mind.

"Those were mistakes."

"Did they feel like mistakes?"

He places his hands on the counter, either side of her body and she leans back, turning her head.

"They were wonderful." She whispers honestly, before turning back to him, her eyes blazing. "But they were also incredibly irresponsible."

"Silly little Elena, always thinking about everyone else." He shakes his head, briefly tapping the tip of her nose. "Stop taking the easy way out. You have so much more in store for you. You're made for bigger things. You shouldn't be with my idiot of a brother... he's so straight-laced, so tame, so boring. He'll bury you alive."

"And what would _you_ do?" She frowns, her voice a scared whisper. "You'd lie, cheat, scheme... there'll be nothing left of me."

"I'd never hurt you." He argues fiercely. "Not again. I'm not saying it'd be easy, it wouldn't. I wouldn't want it to be. But I can give you so much more than he can."

She purses her lips. "No. He loves me. You can't give me that."

"He knows his love isn't enough." He whispers against her neck. "He'd never fight for you, _vigliacco_. He knows you're above him. He knows you'll never feel for him the way you feel about me."

"I can't do this." She breathes. "'You're bad for me."

"_You're_ bad for me." He repeats, his tongue tracing circles on her skin. "Completely addictive."

Her eyes fill with tears and when he pulls back to look at her face, the scorching blue tint of his eyes render her breathless. He grabs the back of her neck, sending her one fiery look, before their mouths are colliding desperately—a fight for dominance. It's primal—raw—and even though their bodies are tightly pressed together, she can't seem to get enough of him. She tangles her fingers in his silky hair while he wastes no time in hitching a leg over his hip, the heat of her thigh warming his shuddering body.

It's only when he bends and his hands go to her backside, prepared to lift her legs around his waist, when she's brought back to reality kicking and screaming.

"I won't do this with you anymore." Her voice is a husky pant as she places a hand against his chest, pushing him away. "I won't."

"Stop trying to control this." He mutters. "You don't control this. Neither of us do. You can't deny it either. You're for me."

"What does this mean to you?" She clutches onto him, both hands fisted with material from his shirt with a kind of desperation she's never felt before. "What do I mean to you? Please, Damon. Tell me what you want."

"I want you." He says immediately, his eyes scorching. "Next to me. Under me. All the time. Eternally. You control everything I do."

She leans her forehead against his, her lips pursed and eyes closed.

"I loved you." She whispers. "I think I'll always love you. But I can't give any more."

"Can't you trust me?" He asks, placing both hands on her cheeks. "Can't you realize that I'd do anything for you?"

"I know that." She bows her head, her teeth biting into her bottom lip. "I'd do anything for you, too. It scares me."

It's irrational, completely ridiculous considering all he did to her... how he destroyed her. But Elena's not stupid. She knows her feelings for Damon are stronger than anything she's ever experienced; that their love is timeless, an all-consuming, impenetrable passion that remains unchanging however the circumstance.

He exhales shakily against her skin and she grips onto his shoulders.

"You're shaking." She notes with worried, overwhelmed curiosity.

"Come back to me." His voice is muffled, but discernable, and she allows one soft sob to fall from her lips.

She feels cut open, laid out, completely naked in front of him—she's his to do with as he pleases.

She can't deny this anymore.

As much as she wants to, she can't.

"I can't live without you." She admits, softly shrugging and reveling in the spark that travels through his eyes. "I don't _want_ to betray Stefan, he deserves so much more... but I find myself bonded to you. And not just in blood. You broke my heart and yet I still need you, with me. But I don't see how I can keep you."

"You can keep me." He whispers against her lips. "I'll go wherever you go."

"I don't want to fight this anymore. I'm scared to be without you." The knowledge terrifies her and when he sees a tear roll down her cheek, he kisses it away.

The next time he speaks, his voice is rough, staccato, black velvet, and she cries against his mouth.

"Stay with me."

* * *

**Song: It's All Coming Back to me Now**

**A/N: Mixed and matched some of the lyrics to suit Elena's feelings.**

**'Vigliacco' means coward... I hope ;)**

**Smut-tastic chapter next! **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Here it is.**

**The big one.**

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Eleven

_Doors slam  
Lights black  
You're gone  
Come back  
Stay gone  
Stay clean  
I need you to need me_

_So we're bound to linger on_  
_We drink the fatal drop_  
_Then love until we bleed_  
_Then fall apart in parts_

She lays staring at the ceiling, wide awake with her heart pounding.

Damon's words echo in her alert mind.

_I wanted to be near you._

_I couldn't look at you._

_I wanted to break you._

_I craved your jealousy._

_Fight for you, kill for you, fucking crawl for you._

_Because you were the only one I wanted._

She places a hand on her forehead, biting her lip, worried. Everything's up in the air now. She knows why he left and yet she doesn't feel any better. She feels empty, a hollow shell with no centre. She wants him next to her, she wants him away from her—she's a walking, talking, breathing contradiction.

He lays staring at the ceiling, wide awake with his heart certainly not pounding.

He thinks it would be though, if it could beat.

Elena's words echo in his alert mind.

_You were everything to me._

_Why didn't you come back?_

_I loved you so much._

_I don't see how I can keep you._

_I think I'll always love you._

_I waited for you._

_You're a coward._

He throws a pillow over his head, trying to drown out her persistent voice. He can feel her in the next room; can hear her heart beating, can feel her pulse like a clicking time bomb in his mind. He wants to go to her. He wants to take her and fuck her a million times—prove to her that she's his over and over and over again until she can't take anymore. He wants to hurt her too. He wants to break her, to punish her for daring to love another. He's a walking, talking, but certainly not breathing contradiction.

_I love you._

The three words—more terrifying to him than any blood wound—echo in his mind. He remembers his counter sentence.

_I don't._

He remembers the look of pure devastation on her face and he wants to fix it.

For the first time in his life, he wants to make something_ better_, not destroy it.

And this is the driving force behind his legs slowly making their way towards her door and his heart reaching out for her.

* * *

They don't speak as he makes his way to her bed. He's here and she's not surprised. It seems inevitable that it would eventually come to this. Two halves fitting together as whole. Dark and light. Sun and Moon. Night and Day. Angel and Demon.

He's standing at the foot of her bed and she's reaching out for him, welcoming him with open arms—kind of like how she's welcoming her deceit. It's a horrible sin and yet she can't bring herself to feel guilty about it. How can she regret a connection so pure, a pull so deep? She makes a choice in that moment and knows there's no going back now. This is it. This is six years worth of yearning and pining and longing and she won't wait any longer.

She grabs a fistful of his shirt, crashing his mouth to hers and pulling him down on top of her. He falls gracefully, catching and bracing himself on his forearms so he doesn't crush her. She breathes into his kiss, shuddering and trembling as his talented tongue builds a fire within her.

They stay like that for a little while, just kissing—sensually, passionately, desperately.

Until he's pulling at her shirt and she's pushing him away.

He looks down at her with confused, hooded eyes and she tangles her fingers in his hair, observing him closely.

She scrutinizes everything about him, secretly frightened that they don't have much time. She was foolish before. If she had known back then what she knows now she would have memorized every contour of his face, every bump and line, every perfection and flawless feature.

She smiles softly, tracing his cheek with the backs of her finger tips before she kisses his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, the corner of his lips.

He shudders, naked under her stare.

"Don't tease me." He whispers when she leans in to kiss him properly, but then draws back. "I'm not a toy."

She laughs in disbelief. "You can dish it out but you can't take it, can you?"

He smiles then, seductive and sinister. He trails kisses down her cheek, her jaw, her neck. He renders her breathless and lifts her shirt to kiss the smooth olive skin of her stomach. She looks down, thrilled at the sight of his blue eyes peeking up at her mischievously. He places another open mouthed kiss to her skin.

"I'll be _your_ toy." He rephrases, his tongue running along the waistline of her jeans. He dips his hands inside, "But only if you promise to play with me." He deftly pops open each button, all the while staring up at her with scorching but playful blue eyes. "If you promise to take me everywhere you go."

He manages to remove her jeans completely, his nimble fingers dancing their way up her smooth legs. She sighs then, using all the strength she has in her tiny body to propel her forwards until she's sitting atop his surprised torso.

He smirks devishly, but her expression is deadly serious.

"I'm _not_ a toy." She tells him, her dampening core rubbing against his clothed stomach—a friction that makes him close his eyes.

He turns them over again, blue eyes glinting mischief.

"I thought we'd established we _like_ being toys?" He trails his hands down her sides, leaving a fire in his wake. She allows him to remove her shirt, not caring that he's still fully clothed. He nips at her neck, while she stares at the ceiling.

"Not me." She whispers as his tongue traces circles on her skin. "I was never that kind of toy. I was the kind of toy you threw away whenever you got bored."

He looks at her, tipping his head and trailing his fingertips along her cheek. "I was careless then." He shrugs, fingers straying into dangerous territory. "Things are different now."

Stefan's face pops into her head as guilt kicks at her stomach with the force of a tidal wave.

She looks away.

"Yes." She murmurs. "They are."

He senses her despair, knows who she's thinking about and feels his own anger beginning to surface. He grabs her chin, maybe a bit too roughly, and forces her to look at him.

She's stunned by the intensity in his gaze.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you."

She swallows, tears pooling in her eyes.

She grips his t-shirt desperately, holding him closer to her. She breathes shakily before she whispers. "I'm scared."

He doesn't say anything, just lets his hips push into hers and revels in the hiss that escapes from her lips. He kisses her lips once, softly and quickly, and she looks into his eyes the whole time.

"I'm scared of you." She whispers, terrified at how easily she can succumb to him after all he did to her. She bites her lip nervously, missing the heat of his kiss. "All the time."

"Don't be." He sends her a crooked smile, his thumb resting on her bottom lip and his eyes staring into hers. "Don't you know I'd kill for you?"

"That's what I'm afraid of."

She doesn't want to talk anymore. No more talking, just feeling. Her nimble ex-cheerleader body twists and turns until she's straddling his waist and everything burns now. She pulls at the bottom of his shirt desperately until he gets the hint, sitting up and letting her pull the black cotton over his head. She kisses him again then, a bruising kiss that tells him just how much she wants him.

Light from the candles beside them illuminate the chest she's waited six years to see. He's still as she remembers—pale and chiseled and scarred from the thousands of fights his rebellious ways have forced him to participate in. She quickly undoes his belt, discarding his pants quickly and leaning down with tearful eyes. He watches—curiously, weakly—as she kisses every part of him that is marred or torn. She knows these scars are old, from before he was turned, and a tear drops onto his skin; the thought of him being hurt in any way leaving her aching.

He flips her onto her back again, "Don't feel bad for me." He tells her, hating her pity.

She nods then, understanding her delicacy is hard for him to handle. He whispers in her ear and the husky tone of his voice makes her close her eyes and surrender to whatever it is that he wants to do to her. He kisses her neck, licking and sucking, leaving her gasping and breathless.

She runs her fingers through his hair, the delicacy of her touch forcing him to halter his actions and look at her.

She bites her swollen lip, letting out a defeated sigh. "I can't deny this anymore." She whispers, shaking her head softly and pulling him down for a kiss. "I can see there's no point."

"Good. You can't deny this." He confirms, his hands sneaking their way behind her until they rest at the clasp of her bra. "Don't even try."

He removes her red bra, quickly, deftly, and the sight of her bare before him once more makes him want to rejoice. A blush makes its way up her body, tinting her cheeks and her neck and the area between her breasts a rosy red. He runs his fingers through her hair and he's so gentle, it makes her want to cry.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his fingers tipping into her underwear.

She sighs against his mouth, her hand resting on her forehead, curled into a fist. She closes her eyes. "It's all happening so fast."

He scoffs, incredulous. "It's been six years." He kisses her lips again, "How much longer do you need?"

"No longer." She breathes immediately, her fingernails gripping into his back. "I don't want to wait anymore."

He kisses his way down her body, his lips soft and wet on her skin. He looks up at her, blue eyes flashing desire and charm, as he kneels between her legs. She watches, teeth biting into her bottom lip, as he seductively lifts her leg, bending it at the knee and placing the heel of her foot on his shoulder.

He sends her an infectious smirk, hands hooking into her panties. She breathes softly as he pulls them down her smooth legs, throwing them behind him. He scoots forwards, pulling her hips until she's flush against his mouth and déjà vu kicks at her stomach like a mule.

The minute his tongue touches her bundle of nerves, she cries out into the pillow beside her, biting into it and feeling her body buck. He holds her down, his talented tongue doing an earth-shattering job at reminding her why he can make her feel the way he does.

She feels like a junkie who's just fallen off the bandwagon again. She remembers before. He was bad for her, completely addictive. She made him do this to her all the time.

And now, she's reminded why.

Stefan's image is still there, a burn at the back of her mind, branding her a liar. She should stop this. She could stop this. But she's so close and he's the one moaning now, low and animalistic... purring because he _loves_ pleasing her. Elena thinks it's the most arousing thing she's ever heard and she grabs his head, fingers entwining themselves in his hair.

"Damon..." She moans throatily and when he simultaneously sucks on her clit and looks up at her with scorching blue eyes, she falls apart.

He holds her as she fractures, murmuring soft words of encouragement in her ear as hot tears of pleasure stream down her face.

When she calms down, she watches him remove his boxers and trails her hands across every inch of his perfect body; committing it to memory.

He leans his weight on his elbows, hovering over her as he kisses her passionately, deeply. She feels him hard against her thigh, hard enough to bruise flesh and she swallows; just the thought of him inside her again makes her ache.

Without another word, he slips inside and the overwhelming feeling that she's finally home makes her cry into his mouth. She kisses him desperately and he responds with just as much vigor, as their hands grope, greedy for each other; for completion.

"Don't ever leave me." She whispers, eyes bearing into his. In the moment, she doesn't care what she's saying. She doesn't acknowledge Stefan or Caroline or the fact that she's ruining lives and breaking hearts. She wants him. She'll do anything for him. The thought makes her shiver.

He shakes his head, moving faster within her. "You're so vulnerable about everything, it makes me sad." He murmurs softly against her lips.

Her eyes begin to sting with tears as she closes her eyes and bites her lip to keep it from trembling.

Eventually everyone lets go.

She holds onto him, fingers tearing into skin that will never scar again, and she has trouble breathing. There's something in his eyes, something new and foreign and frightening; something telling her that things really _are_ different now... that as long as she'll have him, he'll never leave her again—he's locked inside her heart with no intention of ever getting out.

He entwines their fingers, holding them beside her head as she arches her body and begs for more.

He suddenly lets out a groan that's so hot; it causes a scorching pang of desire to rush through her.

Each thrust brings her closer to the edge and she's sure nothing could ever be better than this. As much as she loves Stefan, he's always so clumsy. Damon is just... completely unbelievable.

"Slow." He murmurs darkly, needing this to last.

She shakes her head. "Fast."

He chuckles at her impatience; bending down and tainting the skin of her neck with wet, open mouthed kisses. "We can go fast another time. Tonight, I want to show you how good we are together."

Another time?

Does she want there to be another time?

Yes.

Of course she does.

She wants him inside her all the time, constantly.

With skill that comes from over a hundred years worth of debauched sex, he quickens the pace slightly, simultaneously giving her what she wants but not enough for it to be over. The urge to possess her completely is overwhelming for him, and he has to push it back—he needs to show her who she belongs to and he needs this jealousy to stop pervading his bones.

He doesn't want his brother touching her. He doesn't want his brother anywhere near her.

He doesn't want her to do this with anyone else, ever again.

She senses his quickened pace and realizes how to gain what she needs.

A sly smirk curls the corners of her lips. He's taught her well. She can be as manipulative as he can.

"You're not going fast enough." She pants against his damp neck. He looks down at her, breathless and when he begins to say something, she stops him. "Maybe you don't want me..."

He immediately, involuntarily, slams into her at that and she smiles a moan.

"You're a vixen." He laughs throatily when he realizes her motive and she beams at the rare sound. He really should laugh more.

They're both reaching the edge. She can see it in the way his thrusts are becoming more erratic and she revels in the way he leaves frantic kisses all over her body, loves the way he's beginning to lose control and feels the answering echoes in her own body.

His thrusts become harder, faster, and as her body arches, she pants something that makes him falter.

"You're mine."

He quirks an eyebrow.

She breathes; soft little groans falling from her lips, "You've always been mine. Ever since the beginning. You've been as much mine as I've been yours. I own you... and you're terrified of that."

His body shakes with passion; limbs and voice trembling. She holds him tightly to her as they both fall off the edge, their cries like two strands of winding melody.

"Don't leave me." She whimpers again as she falls onto his chest, dissatisfied with his previous answer.

He holds her tightly, bodies sticking together like one. He looks down at her, kissing her swollen lips tiredly. He brushes away a stray, sweaty strand of brown hair and places it behind her ear.

"Don't worry." He repeats and she bites the edge of her cheek; it's not enough.

But then he kisses her eyelids, her nose, her lips—and he's so gentle it makes her shiver.

"You're the one."

She exhales shakily, her bottom lip trembling.

"Yeah?" She breathes, reveling in the way he kisses her forehead before leaning his own against hers.

He grins against her tired mouth.

"You're my girl." He kisses her tired lips. "_Tesoro mio._"

* * *

**Song: Until We Bleed by Kleerup**

**A/N: Oh Damon, you big sweetie.**

**Might want to re-read that little bit of fluff, things are gonna get pretty heavy from here on out.**

**Thanks SO much for all the reviews! Keep 'em comin' ;) **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Tough choices ahead for our heroine.**

**Here we go.**

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Twelve

_I watched you sleeping, quietly in my bed  
You don't know this now, but  
There's some things that need to be said  
And it's all that I can hear, it's more than I can bear_

_What if I fall and hurt myself?  
Would you know how to fix me?  
What if I went and lost myself?  
Would you know where to find me?  
If I forgot who I am, would you please remind me?  
Oh, cause without you things go hazy._

She wakes up with a smile on her face and something digging into the small of her back. It's the best way she's woken up in years and she sighs contently. Damon buries his head in the crook of her neck, his arm wrapped securely around her waist.

"Mmm." He breathes against her neck, breath hot and causing goosebumps to rise on her flesh. She bites her lip, feeling him against her back, and fights back the desire that warms the pit of her stomach.

"Damon." She sighs, glancing over to the clock on the bedside table. "It's 2am."

He chuckles against her skin. "That doesn't really mean anything to a vampire." With the word '_vampire_', he playfully nips at her neck, the simultaneous memory of his cock and fangs inside her causing a bolt of desire to rush through her.

She muffles a laugh and tips her head to the side, biting her lip and subconsciously giving him easier access to her skin. She looks down and runs her fingers casually over the hand that rests on her stomach. "Yeah, well for us humans, this is _way_ too early." She scorns playfully.

He doesn't say anything, the mischievous air around them suddenly turning more serious. His fingers glide over her skin, his touch as light as a feather as he trails them across her stomach. She inhales slowly, her teeth biting into her lip and her body instantly warming up.

He places an intoxicating kiss behind her ear, capturing her earlobe between his teeth and building a fire inside her. She moans softly, his hand venturing up and softly grasping one of her breasts. She groans, her head bowed as he licks and nips at her neck while rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"Damon." She moans throatily, her voice both warning him and encouraging him.

His lips trail hot, wet kisses down the length of her neck and she notices the urgency his mouth brings. She exhales shakily, an intense pressure forming in her nether regions when he slowly, tauntingly, walks his fingers down her stomach, towards where she needs him the most.

He brings his hand back up and smirks against her shoulder when he senses the discomfort his teasing brings—but his smirk soon turns into a lust-filled hiss when she moves her backside against his cock.

She emits a small cry of relief when he slides one finger inside her, her head lolling back against his shoulder. He can't help his groan when she rubs herself against him again, and he slides another finger inside her.

"God, yes." She whimpers, moving against him frantically, searching for her release. Her body arches against him, and when her head cranes, he kisses her deeply and curls his fingers inside her, sending her over the edge.

As she comes down from her high, an overwhelming feeling passes over her. With a newfound ferocity, she switches their positions, throwing him onto his back. He stares up at her, one eyebrow raised in questioning amusement.

She kisses her way down his body, stopping to suck at his throat, his chest, his hip. When she reaches his arousal, she glances up at him with hooded, mischievous eyes.

"Time to return the favor, don't you think?" Her voice is husky with desire as he stares down at her with dark, lust filled eyes.

She doesn't tear her eyes away as her tongue wraps around the head. As soon as her mouth comes in contact with his sensitized skin, he exhales in pleasure and leans against the bed, his eyelids fluttering. He groans as she takes his entire member in her mouth, sucking and applying pleasure as her mouth moves up. After a while, his breathing becomes labored and he grabs her head, fighting the urge to be too rough. She pulls away suddenly, making him moan in frustration, before she climbs up his body and straddles his waist.

"Inside me." She whispers against his lips, breathless and sweaty. "Now."

He chuckles at her impatience before she's swiftly on her back and he's on top of her tingling body. He kisses her again, tongues entwining frantically, desperately as he quickly slides inside her. She groans, wrapping her legs tightly around him and pushing her guilt to the back of her mind.

They settle into a quick, deep rhythm and she grabs his head, pulling him down to her mouth. They move further up the bed, sheets tangled around his waist as he grabs her hips and hits the right spot within her.

She meets him thrust for thrust, kissing him quickly, desperate to bring him deeper inside her. He tilts his hips, his hand residing over her heart as he hits the perfect spot and sends her into ecstasy. He follows quickly as her walls pulse around him, pulling his orgasm from him almost immediately.

And he kisses her softly, a small thank you.

* * *

It's 7am when the guilt kicks in.

Elena lies on her side, her head resting on her hand as she casually brushes a stray piece of hair away from his forehead. She watches him, silently, contemplatively, as he sleeps. She wants to stay with him, she wants to forget everything that happens outside and stay right here, with him, in this room.

But she knows she can't. A soft frown creases the area between her eyebrows as she bites her lip and she doesn't know what to do now. They're finally together, and she has to go away again. She has to go back to Stefan—her boyfriend, her love, her fiancé.

She knows this and yet, the thought of leaving him makes her feel like she can't breathe.

She sighs, shaking her head and telling herself to get a grip, before she places her lips softly against his forehead and places her head on his chest, snuggling closer to him.

She doesn't even notice the door open.

"Elena?"

She bolts upright, looking much like a deer caught in headlights, as a horrified expression passing over her face.

"Bonnie..."

"What the hell is going on?" The witch hisses, looking away and hiding her shocked eyes from Damon's naked chest.

Elena swallows, her heart pounding. She bows her head, ashamed and embarrassed, as Bonnie passes her a robe, her expression hard and cold.

She puts it on slowly, her hands shaking. She slides out of the bed, throwing the sleeping man one more sorry look before she takes Bonnie's hand and leads her outside the room. She closes the door quietly, her forehead resting on it.

"What are you doing?"

Her friend's judgmental voice brings her back to reality and Elena turns around, leaning her back against the wood.

"I don't know."

Bonnie scoffs incredulously.

"You don't know?"

Elena bites her lip, hushing her and immediately regretting it.

"I don't give a flying fuck about waking him." She fumes. "What the hell are you thinking, Elena? Have you forgotten what he is?"

"I know what he is." She insists quietly. "Of course I haven't forgotten."

"Do you care?"

She remains silent, Bonnie's disgusted eyes burning holes in her body. She places the bag she has in her hand on the floor.

"I came to bring you breakfast." She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "I thought you seemed... distant, lately. I guess now I know why."

"No!" Elena's voice breaks. "This is the first time. It's not like I've been going behind your back."

"No, you've just been going behind Stefan's." The mention of her fiancé makes Elena's heart ache as guilt wracks her body and makes her feel sick. She blinks back tears, knowing that this whole thing is just an utter mess.

Bonnie sighs, rubbing her forehead with a tired hand. "You can still have the breakfast. I mean, it's not like you'll have to share it with him. After all,_ you've_ always been his favorite snack."

Elena stares at her, hurt eyes blinking. "You make it sound like I'm some sort of happy meal."

"Well, you're not much better."

The two friends stay silent for a moment, each looking at each other with a mix of disappointment and sorrow.

"What are you going to do now, Elena?" Bonnie asks, her voice softer now she's calmed down and gained some perspective.

Elena's cheeks huff as she blows out a tired breath. "I don't know." She croaks. "I guess I need to call Stefan, tell him to come home. God, this is gonna crush him." The thought of his broken face causes a twinge in her heart. "He's so ready to be married."

Bonnie frowns, immediately taking a step towards her. "What do you mean? Are you calling the wedding off?" She asks incredulously.

Elena blinks, "How can I be with him after what I've done?" Her voice breaks, a sob catching in her throat.

The witch takes a moment to compose herself, before grabbing her friend's arm and pulling her down to the floor. They both sit cross-legged in front of the door as she holds onto her hands tightly, reassuringly.

"I'm not condoning what you've done." She starts, shaking her head softly, "But Elena, you deserve to be happy. Stefan can make you happy. And he loves you so much. You can't just throw that away."

Elena bites her trembling lip, "What about Damon?" She whispers quietly, his name causing an ache in her chest.

Bonnie's eyes flash with anger. "Damon's an asshole."

Elena closes her eyes, placing her head in her hands. "I know you're trying to help." She says, "But you're not."

"I'm sorry." Bonnie sighs, "I know I'm not exactly Switzerland on the subject. I can't help being a tinsy bit subjective. But Elena, you have to understand... when it comes to Damon, you're just like any other young woman in love. You're blinded by it. You can't see his faults."

"I know he has faults." She argues.

"Yeah, pretty big ones. You know, what with all the maiming and torturing and killing."

"You're overreacting." She whispers, feeling pathetic.

Bonnie sighs, exasperated and frustrated.

"Elena, I understand that you feel for Damon. You'll always feel for him. I get that he's all you can see right now. But think about it. You leave Stefan, run off with Damon... then what? He's never going to change, don't you see that? He'll just end up hurting you again."

Elena bows her head, the simple truth of it causing a tear to roll down her cheek.

"It's so unfair." She breathes brokenly. "I don't know what to do." She looks at her through tear-filled eyes.

Bonnie rubs soothing circles on the palm of her hand, "It's natural not to forget your first love. But Stefan deserves to have you to himself. And you deserve to be with someone who'll look after you, who'll love you throughout everything. Stefan loves you, Elena."

"I love him too." She whispers softly. "But when I'm with Damon, I feel like a completely different person."

"Damon's always going to hold a part of you—something that Stefan can't touch." Bonnie feels a sympathetic twinge in her heart when she sees the tears that stain her best friend's cheeks. "But you need to move on. You need to put this past you. This can't happen again. You're not a cheater, that's not you. And what about Caroline?"

"Oh god." Elena mutters, a sob catching in her throat when she thinks of her friend's devastated face. Her words echo in her mind; a sick reminder of what a bad person she is.

_He makes me feel... alive._

She thinks of Caroline's blue eyes; empty and emotionless—walls so high they can only be constructed when confronted with pain caused by the two people you care about most.

"I don't want to hurt her." Elena whimpers. "I don't want to hurt Stefan, either."

"That's kind of inevitable."

She buries her head in her hands, tired and torn and feeling like she's being pulled in two different directions. She fears that she'll be torn in two.

"I want Damon more than I've ever wanted anything in my life." She whispers, voice hoarse with tears. "But I love Stefan, I swear I do."

Bonnie nods; paralyzed by the same pain she feels whenever Elena's hurting. She crawls over to her, sitting with her back to the bedroom door and pulling her into her side. Elena buries her head in her friend's shoulder, as she feels Bonnie's arm wrap around her waist in an act of comfort and reassurance.

"I don't want to hurt anyone anymore." She cries, her voice muffled.

Bonnie strokes her head softly. "I shouldn't have to convince you that your fiancé is the one you should be with."

"You don't have to." Elena sniffs. "I know I should be with Stefan. I gave him my word."

"I know you better than I know myself." Bonnie says, looking down at her. "And I want you to be happy, Elena. You didn't have to watch yourself when Damon left, I was there, it was frightening... I don't want to see you go through that ever again. But I also don't want you waking up one morning wishing you'd have done something different. If you chose Stefan, it shouldn't be because you 'gave him your word'. It should be because you love him, because he can offer you more than Damon can."

"I do love him." She whispers. "I do. I know he's the right choice. I should be with him."

Bonnie smiles softly before casting her eyes to the ceiling and saying a silent prayer for her best friend. She wishes that she can find the happiness she deserves. She wishes she can learn to let go and more than anything, she wishes she'll do the right thing.

Elena buries her head in the crook of Bonnie's shoulder; finding comfort in her best friend's arms. She feels like there's a war going on inside her, like she's being yanked in every possible direction. She wishes, right then, that she could have both Salvatore brothers... that she doesn't have to break one of their hearts. She wishes she could trust Damon... that he could open up to her, tell her he loves her, take her away and never look back.

But Bonnie's right. Damon will hurt her. Maybe not intentionally and maybe not right away, but somewhere along the line, he'll break her. And she's not sure if she could take that again.

She made a promise to Stefan. He gave her a ring and she gave him her word.

Bonnie holds her tighter as her tears dampen her shirt.

A harsh ring interrupts them and Bonnie slowly reaches into her pocket, pulling out her phone and greeting the person on the other side. Elena scoots over, her back against the door and her tired legs sprawled out in front of her. She bites her lip, her brows furrowed as she wonders what the hell she's going to do. She distantly notices that Bonnie's voice is surprisingly quiet and she hasn't said more than 6 words before she disconnects the phone.

"That was Stefan." She whispers, looking at her with worried eyes. "He's coming home."

No. She needs more time. She needs to figure this out.

Elena cries, her heart torn.

And behind the door, unbeknownst to the bonded friends on the other side, Damon Salvatore opens one furious eye.

* * *

**Sad stuff. This is all for the plot.**

**Just remember this is a damon/elena fic.**

**I won't say anything else, but just bear that in mind. I think we all need a happy ending after the heartache of the season 2 premiere :( **

**Song: Hazy by Rosi Golan**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Right so I had a reader who wants Elena and Stefan together and although I understand it would be powerful and beautiful to have Elena let go of Damon and live happily ever after, after the season 2 premiere, I don't know if I can bring myself not to write a happy ending.**

**So what do you think?**

**Elena/Stefan or Elena/Damon?**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

_Something always brings me back to you  
It never takes too long  
No matter what I say or do  
I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone_

_You're neither friend nor foe  
But I can't seem to let you go._

When she says goodbye to Bonnie and opens the door, she sees Damon sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard and his arms crossed over his magnificent chest.

She immediately panics.

_How much did he hear?_

She releases her breath in one big gush as she walks over to the bed, climbing up and sitting opposite him, Indian-style—the same way she'd sat opposite Bonnie, but the view is quite different this time.

They're silent until she decides to make it quick—rip the band-aid off, per se.

"Stefan's coming home." She whispers, eyes cast downwards as she fiddles with her fingers.

Damon tips his head to the side. "Yes." His voice is rough, cynical. "I heard."

They remain silent as the sun begins to glare through the window, rendering the room brighter and harsh against his always sensitive eyes. She senses his discomfort, jumping up immediately and closing the blinds... and it kills him, how much she knows him.

"What are you gonna do, Elena?" He asks, his voice quieter now.

She looks up at him, lip caught between teeth as she answers as honestly as she can.

"I don't know."

He laughs—a cold, cynical chuckle that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He leans back slightly, uncrossing his arms and rubbing his face with a tired hand. He shakes his head at her, lips twisted into a grimace.

"Really, Elena?" He scorns, voice harsh. "Are we_ really _back to that?"

"What do you want me to say?" She explodes, motioning her frustration with her hands, "I don't know what to do! I just went through this with Bonnie and I _still_ have no idea what to do."

"Yes. I heard your little conversation with Bonnie."

Her heart drops.

"You heard that?" She whispers, voice tiny.

One corner of his mouth tips up into a humorless smirk. "Every word, sweetheart. Vampire hearing, remember? You know, it's just like the little witch... trying desperately to rescue her dear, sweet best friend from the clutches of her fiancé's evil brother!" His voice is infectiously animated, amusement reaching his eyes for the first time.

"She's not exactly your biggest fan." She tells him something he's very aware of. "Can you blame her for favoring Stefan?"

"Favoring Stefan?" He repeats incredulously. "She sounded like she was in love with him! Why doesn't she just go and marry him?" He cracks up childishly, before seeming to contemplate his idea. "Yes! That's perfect. The angelic little witch and her tortured, misunderstood vampire husband."

Elena expects to feel the hot rush of jealousy flow throughout her body and yet, she feels nothing. She pictures them together; him holding her hand, her kissing his cheek and... nothing. Not even a pang.

"And then you could run off with me." He tips his head, almost talking to himself, "We could be like the next Bonnie and Clyde—riding together 'till the end of time." He accentuates his last sentence dramatically and she can't help the small smile that curls the corners of her lips.

"You're ridiculous."

"Am I? Wouldn't you just _love_ to be Mrs. Damon Salvatore? You could be wife to the _hot_ brother." He chuckles to himself.

Elena feels her heart speed up. "You'd marry me?" She asks, her voice quiet, scared of rejection.

He quirks an eyebrow, "Well, yeah." He says as if it's obvious. "Paperwork is a bitch if you're an unmarried couple." He covers.

She closes her eyes, willing her heart to slow down. Doesn't change anything, she reminds herself. Being married to Damon wouldn't last. He'd get bored. He always gets bored. Still, she can't help the lightning bold of hope that rushes through her at the thought of being Mrs. Salvatore.

Mrs. Stefan Salvatore.

Mrs. Damon Salvatore.

Elena Salvatore.

"Did you intend to go back to him the whole time?" Damon's voice brings her back to reality. "Did you just plan to spend one night with me and then go back to your fiancé?"

"No!" She exclaims. "I never _planned _for any of this, Damon."

"Can you just... picture your life for me. Your life, unlife, whatever." He waves a dismissive hand before leaning in closer to her. "In 10 years, 100 years... what do you see? If it's snacking on bunnies with St. Stefan by your side, then fine. Go."

"Damon, I need time to think." She sighs, her body feeling heavy. "Please just... give me some time."

"Sure thing, baby. You can have as much time as you need. Ten whole minutes if you really need it."

"You're fucking hilarious."

He narrows his eyes, his entire body becoming heavy with the realization that he could really lose her again. How much longer does he have to be alone? Years, decades, centuries? How many more days does he have to spend apart from her? He watches her carefully, scrutinizes every perfect, delicate feature and is horrified when he realizes that, in a blink of an eye, she could be gone again.

"I'm not one of your little high school boyfriends." His voice is darkly angry now. "And I _don't_ like being played. I won't wait forever, Elena."

Suddenly he's not so funny anymore.

* * *

Five hours later, Elena walks into Caroline and Bonnie's apartment and gets the fright of her life.

"Surprise!" About thirty people jump out at her and Elena lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

"What the f—"

Caroline giggles and cuts her off before she can curse. "Welcome to your... bridal shower!" She shrieks happily, throwing her arms up and motioning towards the huge banner and balloons and other frilly decorations that are scattered around the room.

Elena fights the urge to grimace.

Bonnie stands next to Caroline, a sympathetic, sorry look on her face. She mouths a quick 'sorry', knowing a party is the last thing her friend needs right now.

With eyes narrowed in suspicion, Caroline grabs Elena's elbow, pulling her to the side. The hoots and catcalls around them dwindle as she pulls her into her bedroom and sits her down on the bed.

"What's up?"

Elena frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you look like I've just killed your cat. Not thrown you a killer, extremely _thoughtful_ party to celebrate your impending nuptials." She smirks.

Elena bites her lip. "I'm sorry Caroline. I've just been really out of it lately. Why are you doing this again?"

She looks at her as if she's crazy.

"Every bride needs a bridal shower!" She exclaims. "It's like... one of the rules! And if you think this is fun, just wait until your bachelorette party!" Elena feels a part of her die inside. "And all joking aside... I care about you." Her voice becomes softer. "I thought this might cheer you up."

_I'm fucking your boyfriend. Care about me now?_

Elena fakes a smile.

An hour or so later, Bonnie finds herself stumbling everywhere, giggly and hiccupping like crazy and more than a little bit drunk.

Caroline laughs, holding her up by her waist. "Okay soldier, let's go over here." She chuckles, dragging her away from the prying eyes of the rest of the guests. She sits her down in the kitchen, slapping her hand away when she reaches for a bottle of vodka.

"Where is Elena?" She mutters under her breath, disappointed that her killer party isn't exactly going according to plan. Sensible, cold fish Bonnie isn't supposed to be getting wasted; she's supposed to be the one holding _her_ up.

Bonnie hiccups. "Probably out banging Damon somewhere." She spits coldly.

Caroline's heart stops. "What?

Bonnie's eyes widen, frozen. "Oh shit." She mumbles. "Shit, shit, shit. Forget I said that."

Caroline scoffs incredulously, "Yeah, like that's gonna happen." She sits opposite her, grabbing her face and making her look at her. "What did you mean?"

Bonnie's eyes fill up with tears and Caroline feels like smacking her.

"Please don't tell Elena I told you." She rushes, eyes wide and panicked.

Caroline's eyes flicker around the room, angry and devastated, as she tries not to look at her—focus on something, anything, to keep her from screaming. She blinks wildly, her fury rising, before she composes herself and takes Bonnie's face in her hands.

"Look at me." She tells her to focus and squeezes her cheeks so her lips are scrunched up and she thinks she would laugh if the circumstances were different—you know, if she wasn't trying to find out whether her kinda-boyfriend was as much of a scumbag as she had feared and if her best friend was a cheating, lying whorebag.

"Tell me the truth." She stares into her eyes, praying her drunken mind is making things up.

Bonnie hiccups, frowning. "They slept together." She gushes, more preoccupied with the sparkly lights behind Caroline than what's she's actually saying.

Caroline pushes her away furiously, nearly sending her flying off her chair. She straightens, face composed and hiding everything she's feeling.

She is _Caroline Forbes._

No-one, _no-one_, messes with her.

She plants a smile on her face and makes sure her eyes don't swell up as she walks out of the kitchen and back into the party.

She doesn't cry.

She doesn't get angry.

She just gets even.

* * *

A short while later, Elena sits part of a circle, still not enjoying herself.

She tunes out the shrieking laughter that the game 'I never' brings to her friends and wonders how the hell she's going to get out of this mess. _Stefan. Damon. Stefan. Damon. Stefan. Damon._ How is she meant to choose?

Directly opposite her is Caroline and she frowns when she sees the deathly glare on her face.

She pushes it to the back of her mind, hoping she's imagining it; she can't deal with her mood swings too.

"I've never..." Bonnie's drunk drawl brings her back to Earth. "...had sex in a pool."

The girls around her erupt in a fit of giggles as four or five of them lift their drinks to their lips and take a swig. Elena bites her lip, images of her and Damon crossing her mind. Wet, chlorine-filled kisses. Slippery, heavy body sliding together. Heads thrown back. Hips grinding. Tongues meshing. Teeth biting.

No-one notices her drink.

A few girls carry on the game, girls she doesn't even think she knows. Their faces are familiar, some are from high school, but none of them know her—not really. She sighs, bowing her head and not listening.

Suddenly it's Caroline's turn and her glare has been intensified ten fold.

Elena frowns, confused.

"I've never..." She tilts her glass, casually watching the liquid slosh around the rim before she looks straight at Elena, "...had sex with my best friend's boyfriend."

Elena feels her breath catch as the giddy giggles around her turn into nervous laughter.

She feels time stop, curious eyes on her, before someone bursts into incredulous laughter. She frowns, surprised, and follows their gaze where a girl she thinks she recognizes has her glass at her lips.

"Mindy!" They screech, fakely appalled. _Mindy, that's it._

She chortles, unaffected. "What?" She drawls inadvertently. "It was high school!"

The game continues and Elena's thankful for the unintentional diversion; but she can still feel the weight of Caroline's piercing scowl—is still left worrying, wondering_ does she know?_

_No._ She assures herself, _how could she?_

When it's her turn, she makes up a quick "I've never liked the color green" and everyone moans and grumbles at her for being such a bore.

Sooner than she would've liked, it's Caroline's turn again.

"I've never..." Her voice is harder now, openly aggressive. She looks at Elena, fury evident in her eyes. "...said I'd marry someone when I'm _so clearly_ still in love with his brother."

Elena's stomach drops, her eyes filling with crestfallen tears. She looks at her, imploring her; begging her to take this somewhere else... not in-front of all these people. Caroline remains unapologetic, her gaze disgusted and fiercely wrathful.

"Drink up, Elena." She hisses sarcastically through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes.

"Caroline..." Elena whispers, her expression frozen in remorse. Caroline shakes her head at her, standing up and furiously ripping down the banner she'd so carefully,_ stupidly_, put up.

Bonnie stands up too, ashamed tears running down her face now she's been sobered considerably. She grabs Elena's hands, pulling her up and dragging her into the kitchen, where Caroline's fury is being materialized with loud crashes and bangs.

"Elena, I'm so so so sorry." Bonnie's crying beside her but all Elena can think about is fixing this. She can't deal with Bonnie right now. She needs to make this better. "I didn't mean to tell her! It just slipped out! I'm so—"

"—Bonnie!" She turns to her quickly. "Can you please just... shut up." She hisses.

Bonnie gasps, hurt and taken aback, but Elena can't find it in herself to feel any guiltier.

"Caroline..."

"Get out!" She screeches. "I don't want you anywhere near me!"

Elena bites her lip. "I'm so—"

"—don't you dare." She seethes, pointing a finger at her. "If you_ dare_ try and apologize to me, I will personally beat you to a pulp."

"Well then what do you want me to say?" Her voice is small, tired and ashamed.

Caroline scoffs and rolls her eyes. "You know what? Don't say anything." She waves a dismissive hand. "Your hypocrisy speaks volumes."

Elena's gaze hardens. "I _am_ sorry." She says slowly, "But you are acting so shocked and appalled, when you _knew_ what Damon was like!"

"Oh so that makes it all better?" She cries incredulously while Bonnie cowers in the corner of the kitchen. "What? I should've expected this? I should just take it with a pinch of salt, right?" She spits angrily. "Because Damon's an asshole plus I knew I'd never be good enough."

"That's not what I meant." She whispers. "You are good enough, Caroline."

"No." She contradicts immediately. "Not for him. I try _so hard_, but I know I'll never be enough for him. He'll always, _always _be hung up on you."

The three girls remain silent, each one of them shedding tears over a man they know is completely unworthy of them.

"Do you want to know what hurts the worst, Elena?" Caroline speaks after a few moments, looking out the kitchen window with her back to her supposed best friends. "I actually felt... inferior to you." She scoffs and rolls her eyes at her idiocy. "I've always felt inferior to you. You're the one everyone wants. You're the one everyone looks up to. And I'm just the doormat best friend."

Elena opens her mouth to say something, but Caroline cuts her off with one harsh look.

"You made me feel like a massive bitch for being with Damon." She turns around, her arms crossed over her chest defensively. "I felt like... a bad person, even though really you had no right to be angry at me. You and Damon have been finished for years. You act like you're so much better than me—perfect little Elena who everyone loves—and yet you were with Damon while we were together! Not to mention Stefan, you know, your_ fiancé?_"

"Caroline..."

"He meant everything to me, Elena." Her voice catches and she kicks herself. "But you knew that, didn't you?"

Elena bites her lip. "I never meant to hurt you... you or Stefan."

"That doesn't really matter now, does it?" She laughs humorlessly under her breath. "Because now I don't really care if I see either one of you again."

With that she walks out, leaving Elena frozen in the spot and Bonnie to pick up the pieces of her drunken slip.

* * *

Elena sits in her car, her hands trembling and her teeth biting into the side of her cheek. She sits parked outside the boarding house after driving around for what seems like hours, just to clear her head. She swallows, blinking furiously.

_No you don't. You don't get to cry. No feeling sorry for yourself. You got yourself into this mess and you're going to damn well get yourself out of it._

She exhales slowly, shakily, as she tries to compose herself—and when she goes to reach for the door handle, something red catches her eye.

It's a car—red and small with curved windows and leather seats. She feels her heart stop as she breathes, "Stefan" and throws the door open, running down the gravel path towards the house.

She shoves her keys in the lock, quickly barging through the front door and rushing up the spiral staircase. She doesn't get far before something is blocking her path. Her head flies up, eyes startled and hair a mess. Caroline stands in-front of her, eyes shining with a vicious, resentful sense of bitter achievement.

"Caroline..." Elena breathes with wide eyes, praying to God that this isn't what she thinks it is. "Please... please tell me you didn't say anything..."

She waits, teetering off an edge, and Caroline lets her sweat.

"Oh I'm sorry." She drawls in a sickly sweet voice that's lined with sarcasm. "Was I not supposed to?"

She throws her one more triumphant look before pushing past her and leaving her frozen on the spot.

Elena blinks, swallowing nervously as she trudges her way to the bedroom she shares with Stefan.

_No._ She begs internally._ Please. Not yet. Not like this._

She tries to convince herself that Caroline was bluffing; that yes, she wanted to punish her, but she thinks she wouldn't go this far.

But as the door creaks open and she sees Stefan's heartbroken face, she knows she was wrong.

* * *

**Song: Gravity by Sara Bareilles **

**A/N: Drop a review and tell me what you think regarding the authors note at the top of the page ;) **

**Hmm, what's the younger Salvatore gonna say? **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! **

**And btw, after Damon's heartache in the first couple of episodes, I just can't bring myself to not give him a happy ending again! So there we have it. There are about 3 or so more chapters left.**

**Enjoy.**

**

* * *

**

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Fourteen

_My hands are searching for you_  
_My arms are outstretched towards you_  
_I feel you on my fingertips_  
_My tongue dances behind my lips for you _  
_The fire running through my being_  
_Burning, I'm not used to seeing you _

_I can feel you all around me_  
_Thickening the air I'm breathing_  
_Holding on to what I'm feeling_  
_Savoring this heart that's healing_

She stands, horrified and paralyzed to the spot. Stefan doesn't say anything and she notices how thinner he is now than before. He stands up, walking past her with a disappointed, broken look. He reaches the mahogany table on the other side of the room and pours himself a drink of scotch.

She bites her lip. "When did you become your brother?" Her voice is hoarse and nervous and she immediately kicks herself for mentioning Damon.

He lets out a bitter laugh. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He mumbles, tipping his head back and downing the glass.

She sighs in exasperation, running a tired hand over her face before she sits down on the bed.

"Stefan..." She whispers, imploring him. "Please... let me explain."

He shakes his head, grabbing the bottle and pouring himself another glass. "Don't bother." He chuckles under his breath. "I think Caroline informed me pretty well."

She's shocked by the distant tone of his voice and it kills her that she's reduced him to someone so cold.

"It's not what you think." She insists, fiddling with her fingers.

"Oh?" He turns around, leaning against the wooden counter, the glass tipping in his hands. It strikes her that he looks so much like Damon in that moment, but she tries to push that thought to the back of her mind; set on making this right, "So you _didn't_ have sex with my brother?" His voice is hard, cynical.

She bites back a gasp, her head bowing in shame. She shakes her head. "I didn't mean for it to happen." She whispers, immediately hating how small and pathetic she sounds.

"You know…" He pushes off the counter, walking around the room, "I didn't want to leave you. I agonized over the decision, terrified that if you were alone, Damon would hurt you... maybe even kill you."

She lifts her head, her voice biting. "You know that's ridiculous." She says quickly, heatedly, and his eyes become stony and angrier when she defends his older brother.

"Do I?" His voice rises in frustration; "I don't know anything about him anymore! He's nothing like the Damon I used to know. He's cold and evil... he's a murderer."

She doesn't say anything and looks at him with eyes so pleading he has to close his own and compose himself.

"When Caroline told me, I prayed that I'd misunderstood... or that he'd compelled you—" He glances towards the vervain filled necklace around her neck. "—but he didn't make you do anything, did he?"

She remains silent for a while before she swallows, her voice small.

"No."

He sighs, the confirmation causing a twinge in his heart.

"Were you ever gonna tell me?"

She shakes her head, a small shrug lifting her shoulders. "I don't know." She sighs. "I hadn't exactly thought it through." She stands up then, taking a step towards him. "I just know that I didn't want to hurt you."

She reaches out for him and for a moment she thinks he'll accept her embrace, but then he turns away from her as if her touch had burned him.

"If you didn't want to hurt me, you probably shouldn't have slept with my brother." He tells her, his voice tired and his expression hard and unforgiving.

She lets out a small sob, her eyes flickering around the room. "I'm so sorry, Stefan." Her voice portrays her despair and the tears that run down her face cause him to involuntarily wince. "I never planned for any of this. I just... when I'm with you I feel like one person and when I'm with him, I feel like someone completely different."

She sounds completely torn and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as she stands awkwardly, out of place.

"The way I see it..." He starts, taking her hand and walking them over to the bed. He sits down, pulling her with him and releasing her hand, leaving her cold. "I have three options. One, I could force him to leave, out of our lives. Two, I stake him." The very thought of Damon lying on the floor, stake protruding through his chest and skin a sickly grey causes her to lose her breath. "Three, I walk away from you."

"I don't want to lose you." She whispers quickly, her tearful eyes searching his face.

He smiles softly, just the corner of his lips twitching. "You don't want to lose him either."

She wishes she could deny it. "I don't know what to do." She cries gently, the unfairness of it all weighing her down. "I love you." She breathes, her hand taking his.

"I know that." He nods, his eyes flickering down to their entwined fingers, before he looks back into her eyes with a sorry expression. "But you love him too."

Her face twists into a mask of remorse and regret when she can't deny it. She bows her head, tears warming her cheeks.

"So where does that leave us?" He asks, images of Elena and his brother together causing him to feel sick.

She takes a deep breath, "I guess I'll just..." She swallows, what she's about to say causing her to lose her breath, "...pack my stuff."

"What?" He frowns. "You're leaving me?" He asks, his hurt voice incredulous.

She stares at him with eyes just as confused. "How can you ever forgive me?" Her voice catches and she bites the side of her cheek.

He closes his eyes, swallowing. He's suddenly haunted by the image of Damon being with her in a way so intimate. He pictures him kissing her lips, her neck, her thighs... his next thoughts make him want to throw up. He shakes his head, determined.

He takes her hand, "Elena, I'm not going to say that you sleeping with him doesn't hurt like hell." He laughs nervously, awkwardly. "Of course it does. It kills me. But I still want to be with you because... well, it's_ you_. And in spite of everything... I love you."

He wipes away a tear. "I love you too." She whispers.

He bites his red lip, "But..." His voice is quiet now. "You love him a little bit more, don't you?"

She opens her mouth to deny it and is horrified when nothing comes out.

"I... I just need some time." She whispers, repeating what she had asked of Damon.

"You can have all the time you want." He traces her cheek with his fingertips and his gentleness causes another sob to fall from her throat. How can he be so lovely, so soft and kind after all she's done to him?

"I'll wait." He tells her. "I'll always be here. I'll wait forever." He kisses her hand, "After all... I'm not getting any older." His lips twitch into an uneasy smile and she mirrors his actions before leaning her forehead against his.

She's got some serious thinking to do.

* * *

Damon Salvatore sits quietly in his bedroom, glass held tightly in his hand.

He paces the room, he shouldn't listen to this.

He closes his eyes, frustrated and overwhelmed, and he just feels like he needs to lie down.

He sits on his bed, foot tapping maniacally against the floor as he uses all his willpower to not listen to what's going on in the other room.

He breathes slowly, unnecessarily, and before he can stop himself, his vampire hearing renders him frozen.

_I love you._

Her voice flows around him like a misty, unforgiving fog and he has to close his eyes. Pain kicks at him, starting in the pit of his stomach and erupting into an ache that spreads throughout his limbs. He curses himself; _get a grip, don't let her get to you._

But he can't deny that her words cut him deeper than he would've liked. He hears her sob, her desperate cry like a haunting symphony in his ears, and when she sniffles and tells his brother she's sorry, he fights the urge to barge in there.

Why is she sorry?

She should never regret what they have. _She's so frustrating_, he thinks irritably. They're made for each other. They belong together. He knows it. She knows it. So why is she being so damn persistent?

_You love him a little bit more, don't you?_

Damon scoffs out loud.

_Well, duh._

He notices that she hasn't denied it and the hot pang of hope resonates through him. He lays back, his head against the headboard, as he openly listens to their encounter, not caring about blocking it out anymore.

He listens to his little brother tell her he'll wait forever and he rolls his eyes.

How romantic.

He bites his nail, his eyebrows pulled into a frown when he listens to her heartbeat falter and increase.

_What the hell are they doing?_ He swallows back his disgust when he hears the distinct of sound of mouths meeting.

The hand that isn't raised to his lips clutches the whiskey glass tightly in his hand.

And when he hears Elena moan his baby brother's name, he feels it shatter.

* * *

"You're going back to him, aren't you?"

Elena closes her eyes, her breath catching.

"Damon..." She whispers, her body slumping in defeat.

He doesn't say anything. He just walks over to the desk that sits in front of the fire and pours himself a drink, much like his brother. Elena watches him with tired, regretful eyes.

"You have to understand..."

He doesn't seem to hear her as he downs the liquid in the glass with a satisfied hiss, "You know..." He drawls, "You two really are the perfect couple."

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

"You're both so noble." He rolls his eyes, sending her a half smirk. "So brave and so very... _good_. It's a shame you're not attracted to him." He shrugs, placing the glass on the counter and beginning to walk away. Elena's mouth falls open as she runs after him.

She grabs his elbow. "Wait a second!" She demands, her eyebrows furrowed. "You can't just say something like that and walk away!"

Damon looks down at her, lip caught between teeth enticingly. "It's not my fault you can't handle the truth."

Elena huffs. "I'll have you know, I'm very attracted to Stefan." She tells him, lifting her chin indignantly. Damon's mouth tips up into a smirk as he motions with his hands for her to go on.

"We're perfect for each other. He understands me—"

"—understands you?" Damon cuts her off with a throaty laugh. "What _passion!_"

"We have passion." She insists quietly, weakly, and he wonders if she's even convincing herself, "Not everything is about _that _anyway." She mumbles, walking over to the sofa and sitting down ungracefully. "Not everything is about wanting to have sex all the time." She rolls her eyes.

His lip curls in a dangerous smirk.

"But it's pretty fun when everything_ is _about that, don't you agree?" She narrows her eyes, a small pout gracing her lips as she sneers at him.

He laughs and shakes his head at her. "You know, all throughout your little speech... not once did I hear you say anything about love."

She bites her lip and watches as he takes a seat opposite her on the black leather couch.

"You have no right to pry into mine and Stefan's relationship."

He throws his hands up in mock defeat, "No-one's prying here. Just... observing."

"That's the same thing."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"Stop being so childish."

"Do I look like a child to you?"

Images of a part of his anatomy that is certainly not small or childish cause a red hot blush to taint her cheeks.

"You're just jealous." She bites, a small smile curling her lips.

Damon sits back, crossing his arms above his head and leaning against them. "Why would I be jealous of Stefan?" He asks, crossing his ankles, "He has to spend the rest of eternity married to you." He jokes and her mouth opens in mock surprise.

"You'll pay for that." She warns... before she pounces.

He catches her as she squeals in delight, straddling his lap. They don't have time to notice that, though, before her nimble fingers are running all over his sides, causing him to involuntarily buck and writhe beneath her.

"Stop." He breathes through chuckles. "Stop!" His voice is completely uncontained, free of any sarcasm or cynicism, completely at ease. It makes her heart skip a beat. She's always loved his laugh; he's never been one to laugh enough.

"Make me." She whispers.

He observes her for a moment, just searching the planes of her face, before he switches their positions using his vampire speed. She lands on her back on the couch with him towering over her, his fangs bared in a playful hiss.

She stares up at him, her fingers tracing the lines of his sharp white fangs. He inhales sharply, tipping his head to the side and looking at her with interested eyes.

"You don't scare me, Damon." She says softly, her fingers resting on the side of his face.

He stares down at her, all signs of playfulness gone.

"Yeah?" His voice is throaty, hoarse. "Well you scare me."

She blinks a few times, waiting for the inevitable, before he swoops down and captures her lips with ease.

She kisses him back, all inhibitions gone as she allows herself to enjoy his touch. His lips are persistent, rough, and she feels his anger and frustration in the way his tongue fights with hers; a constant battle of raging emotions.

His hips grind into her; a pleasant burn that causes an ache between her legs. She hitches a leg over his waist, pulling him closer, swallowing him whole. He groans against her lips, his hips rubbing frantically, searching desperately for the friction that will bring them both over the edge.

He draws back to look into her eyes. She kisses him softly, gently, and the delicacy of her touch makes him shiver.

It's there. She sees it. Between the lust and mischief and darkness, the emotion she so desperately craves is there.

_Love._

It shines through his eyes, it's reflected in every move he makes and it's echoed in her own heart. Now if only he could admit it... things would be so much easier.

The choice wouldn't be so hard, if he could only offer her some kind of reassurance; a sign that he won't tire of her or toss her aside.

The brick walls are barricaded around her heart and letting him in again would be the hardest thing she'd ever have to do.

She breaks away from his lips, turning her head and letting the confusion and guilt cloud her mind.

"Leave him." He begs against her neck. "I can offer you so much more. You wouldn't have to change with me. You don't need to contain yourself around me; you'll be free. I know you love me. You've always loved me."

She turns her head slowly, looking into his hazed eyes.

"Yes." She whispers honestly, but there's a hard tone to her voice that throws him, "I love you." The words cause an ache in his chest, "I've always loved you. And I always will. But that doesn't change anything... because you can't admit you love me too."

"I don't have your kind of open heart." He tells her with a sadness that infiltrates her soul. She bows her head, a soft sigh falling from her lips before she places two firm hands on his chest and pushes him away. She stands up, her body trembling.

"I've got to go." She whispers, her eyes shining with unsaid apologies.

"Don't." He replies immediately, standing up and walking to her.

He knows it's useless. He knows her so well, he can read her every emotion and he knows what she's going to say before she says it.

She's pulling away... vanishing... and in the blink of eye, she'll be gone.

The rest of his long life, without her.

She's going back to his brother—back to light and security and warmth. He knows this not because she's said it, but because he can literally _feel_ her slipping away—she's going to leave him, no doubt she has to, even though he's certain that a part of her longs to stay with him.

She takes a step back. "I have to. I can't do this anymore." Her voice catches.

"Really? It's come back to this again?" His voice drips of cynicism. "You're kind of a broken record, you know?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to realize that Stefan only wants a wife." He takes another step and before she can walk back, he grabs her hand. "I want _you_. What can I do to prove that to you?"

"Tell me you love me." She whispers immediately, her voice hoarse with terrified anticipation.

He stands frozen, wanting more than anything to give her what she needs, but unable to. He was burned with Katherine and now it's impossible for him to put himself out there.

She takes his silence as a sign and nods bitterly.

"Elena, I want you all the time. Next to me, under me. Isn't that enough? I don't know how else to say it."

A tear rolls down her cheek. "How about how you show it? All you do is push me away."

"Elena..." He runs an agitated hand through his hair and she watches him, observing him with glassy eyes. "I can't change. I don't know how."

"I love you, Damon." She whispers and the words cause an ache in his heart. "But I can't wait for you anymore. I'm a grown up now. I'm not some 16 year old love sick little girl hung up on you. I read somewhere that the hardest part of loving someone is knowing when to let go, and knowing when to say goodbye." Her eyes fill with tears as she stubbornly blinks them away. "I can't do this. I need someone who'll take care of me, someone who won't leave me."

He remains silent, his jaw locked.

She shakes her head, taking a step back and leaving him cold.

"It shouldn't be like this. It has to end." She says sternly, and she means it. Him and his stupid games. This has to be goodbye. It's much too serious now Stefan and Caroline and everyone else are involved.

She's not a child anymore.

He opens his mouth to say something, then rapidly closes it; he wants to tell he cares, but he doesn't. She won't believe it.

She thinks that if he really cared, they wouldn't be here right now. They'd be together and this game would end.

"Elena." She closes her eyes; she'll miss that—the way his voice wraps around her name like velvet. His voice, his sound, nothing compares.

"Elena?" Her name is repeated, but this time the sound isn't nearly as intoxicating to her. She swallows and looks towards the door, where Bonnie's head is poking through. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah." Elena's voice is croaky, hoarse from dry tears and he looks at her, waiting for an answer to that very question. "I'll be out in a minute. Can you just... leave us, for a second?"

The witch narrows her eyes, gaining an eye roll from Damon and a pleading stare from Elena. She bites her lip, nodding slowly before closing the heavy door.

She turns back to him; she wants to tell him everything, give him everything, beg for everything.

But they're out of time.

"I'm marrying him, Damon." She makes it clear and when an angry glint passes through his eyes, she holds her breath. Maybe this is it. Maybe this time the spark will ignite. Maybe he'll admit how he feels and she won't have to leave.

But then, as quickly as it appeared, the brick wall is back up. His eyes glass over and the bright blue is replaced by a much darker tone.

"I guess this is goodbye then."

She swallows. "Goodbye Damon."

He gives a curt nod, understanding and numb, as he turns around and leaves her aching, wanting, breathless. What was the point of him even staying? Just to see whether she'd really go through with it? To see if she'd complete the latest move in their endless push and pull of game play? But now it's serious. This isn't an exploration of bodies or a game of who can make who more jealous. People are involved. Their actions have consequences. So much rides on what happens next.

And so she stands, helpless and raw and aching, as she watches him walk out of her life once again.

Taking her heart with him.

* * *

**A/N: Don't worry, this is all for the plot. **

**This is a damon/elena story. **

**I won't say anything else, just... keep that in mind ;) **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Just one super long chapter left! And a fluffy epilogue. It's been so great, thanks to all of you.**

**This skips forwards a bit to Elena's wedding day. **

**

* * *

**

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Fifteen

_How can you just walk away from me_  
_When all I can do is watch you leave?_  
_'Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain_  
_Even shared the tears_  
_You're the only one who really knew me at all. _

_So take a look at me now_  
_'Cause there's just an empty space_  
_And there's nothing left here to remind me_  
_Just the memory of your face_  
_And you coming back to me is against the odds_  
_And that's what I've got to face._

The wind howls outside as Elena sits perched on the wooden chair, frustrated tears blocking her vision. She stares into the huge mirror and her brown eyes stare back: vacant, emotionless, empty. She shakes her head, closing her eyes as she composes herself and grasps the hairbrush in an iron, unbreakable grip.

Five hours.

She gets married in five hours.

300 minutes before she becomes Stefan's completely, forever.

The thought causes a shiver to run down her spine.

She shakes her head again, determined to give her stubborn hair another shot. It's newly dried and sticking up everywhere, fiercely tangled and impossible to brush. She exhales slowly, before lifting her arm and placing the hairbrush to her hair. She pulls swiftly, her anger mounting when a knot causes the brush to become stuck.

She huffs, tears springing to her eyes as she feels like throwing something.

She doesn't even notice the door open.

The footsteps are light, dainty on her bedroom floorboards and she holds her breath.

"Elena?" The voice is gentle, soft and high-pitched. "Are you alright?"

She closes her eyes, tears threatening to spill over. She bites her trembling lip, "No. I'm not alright. This stupid hairbrush... stupid hair... stupid, stupid, _stupid!_" She rants. "Everything is going wrong!"

Caroline Forbes bites her the edge of her cheek.

"Why do I get the feeling that this isn't just about your hair?" She asks, walking over to the bed and watching her former friend closely.

Elena bows her head, wondering why she's here after weeks of silence.

"Are you scared?" Caroline asks in a whisper.

Elena lifts her head, looking at the blonde's reflection in the mirror. "To death." She admits with a humorless laugh.

Caroline's lips twist into a grimace as she stands up and silently takes the hairbrush from Elena's hands. She looks at the pins she had experimented with a feels a pang of sympathy. She really doesn't know what she's doing.

She begins to pull at the thick, brown hair—her nimble fingers doing a much better job at detangling all the stubborn knots.

"What made you come back?" Elena asks after a few moments, wiping away her irrational tears now she's calmed down.

Caroline tips her head to the side. "I guess you could say I gained some perspective."

"How so?"

"When I found out about you and Damon... I was so angry I could barely breathe." She carries on brushing the damp hair, ignoring Elena's anxious expression. "For days, I couldn't look at you. I couldn't be near you without seeing everything you'd done with him. I sought comfort in Bonnie but... it wasn't the same."

Elena's eyebrows pull into a frown and Caroline realizes she's not doing a very good job at explaining her newfound acceptance.

She sighs.

"Do you remember in 2nd grade when you stole my Barbie?" She begins and Elena's cheeks flush a bright pink at the memory. "God, I was so angry at you—even though the doll was never truly mine to begin with. Another little girl's name was branded on Barbie's back. It must've been donated to the school. I took... such a liking to it; I wanted it all to myself. When you took it without asking, I was so furious. I wouldn't talk to you for days. I missed you, but I wouldn't admit it. Then, maybe a week or so later, I saw you sitting in the corner by yourself... and you looked so down, so sad and lonely. I realized then that you were my best friend... that there were more important things to me than a doll."

She pulls at a particularly stubborn knot, before she looks into the mirror and glances at Elena's confused eyes.

"This is just the same." At her friend's expression, she begins to explain. "Don't you get it? Damon's Barbie."

The sentence is so ridiculous that Elena can't help the small smile that curls the corners of her lips.

"Care to elaborate?"

Caroline chuckles under her breath. "It took me a while to realize it but... Damon was never really mine to begin with. He was yours… he'll always be yours. I was just looking after him until you came to your senses. Your name is branded on his back, just like that girl's was branded on Barbie's."

Elena bites her lip, blinking.

"I missed you." Caroline smiles softly. "You're my best friend and I can't tell you how much that means to me. Yes, I cared about Damon." She looks at her then, blue eyes sparkling. "But I love you Elena."

"Caroline." Elena whispers. "I'm so sorry."

She waves a dismissive hand. "It's over now. Water under the bridge and all that. I'm really growing up." She straightens proudly—the shallow, resentful streak in her fading.

They remain silent for a few moments, before Caroline's skilled hands restore Elena's hair to it's natural, silky glory.

"Caroline?" Elena's voice is a timid whisper as Caroline gently places the hairbrush onto the wooden counter

"Yeah?"

"Do you think..." Elena clears her throat nervously, her head bowed. "Do you think we could be friends again?"

Caroline nods. "Sure." She says, her voice smooth.

"Like before?"

She falters at that. Yes, she's forgiven. But she hasn't forgotten. She may have come to terms with the fact that Damon was never really hers—that he loved Elena all along—but that doesn't excuse what she did.

"I don't think so, Elena." She whispers and Elena purses her lips. "Like before is gone."

Elena bows her head, upset but not at all surprised. Everything's changed. Everything's different now. Her relationship with the girl she's known since she was in diapers will never be the same, and she has to come to terms with that. Because it's all her fault.

All she can do now is apologize, build a new life and try to mend the pieces of her broken heart.

"Can I still be your bridesmaid?" Caroline's cautious voice startles her. "I mean, you're gonna need someone to do your hair..." She laughs under her breath.

Elena stands up, enveloping the blonde in her arms.

"Of course you can." She hugs her tightly.

They stay like that for a few moments, before Elena steps back and takes her previous place on the chair.

Caroline reaches for a few pins and as she plays with her hair and speaks to her about what styles are in this season, Elena drowns her voice out. She takes a deep breath as images of her impending wedding flash before her eyes.

Walking up the aisle, a white dress, flowers, friends, family, Stefan, forever, Damon.

_Damon._

His face causes an ache in her heart and she pushes it to the back of her mind.

Can't think about him now.

That's over.

He's leaving straight after the wedding.

Time to move on.

With those warnings fresh in her mind, Elena begins the first steps into preparing...

Preparing for the death of Elena Gilbert and the birth of Mrs. Stefan Salvatore.

* * *

As Damon Salvatore sits in his bedroom, he listens to everything that's going on next door. He notices Elena's quietness and he listens to Caroline explain her forgiveness, shocked at the grace she exudes in that moment. Who knew she had it in her?

And Caroline might be a lot of bad things—but she's right.

Elena's name_ is_ branded on him—like a tattoo, a permanent mark on his heart.

It's infuriating, as much as he tries to shake her off, the memory of her remains forever ingrained in his mind.

_I don't belong anywhere,_ he thinks with despair, _I'll always be with you._

He shakes his head, intent on listening to more of the girls' conversation, but before he can begin, his door is creaking open.

He looks to see who's disturbing him, and he feels his eyes roll.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for your wedding?"

Stefan nods vacantly before gently closing the door behind him.

"I came to talk to you."

"Well, you found me." Damon leans against the headboard, his ankles crossed and his head resting on the folded arms above his head. "Fire away."

Stefan takes a seat on the edge of the bed, observing his brother with curious, cautious eyes.

"It's about Elena..."

"When isn't it?"

The younger brother sighs, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

"I know she's in love with you."

Damon raises an eyebrow. "Well, this is going in an interesting direction."

"But she loves me too."

Damon bites his lip, ready to deliver a sarcastic, arrogant comment but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. He sighs in agitation, pinching the bride of his nose.

"I know that." His voice isn't as smooth usual. "As much as it kills me, I know."

"And you need to come to terms with the fact that I am _better_ for her than you are."

Damon exhales, standing up and walking over to the wooden counter, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. He quickly pours himself a glass, downing the liquid swiftly, reveling in the sting it leaves behind. He leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"I know that too." He repeats with a soft shrug of his leather-clad shoulders. "I've always known that."

"And yet here you are." Stefan lifts his arms in frustration. "Still haunting me. You know I'm better for her, you know she belongs with me—"

"—hang on a second." Damon interrupts with a tip of his glass and a raise of his eyebrow. "I never said that. I merely said that I accepted you are the more... rational choice. Doesn't make you the right one."

"She's chosen me, Damon." His voice is hard, a warning. "We're getting married in 5 hours. You've lost. She's chosen me because she loves me—"

"—she's chosen you because you're_ safe_." Damon finally loses his temper, his voice more like a snarl. "Don't you think for a second it's because she loves you more than me—because we both know that's bullshit."

"Look, my point is... it's over. Can't you let it go?"

"Why? So you can get what you want yet again?"

He's overcome with a different kind of anger; one not fuelled by anger, but by bitterness.

Stefan frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"You took Katherine from me." Damon growls. "And you expect me to let you have Elena, too?"

"Oh my god." Stefan buries his face in his hands before looking up in despair. "It all comes down to Katherine, doesn't it?"

"Maybe it does. After all, you're the one who always gets what he wants and I'm the one who's left with nothing. Every single time. You know what Stefan? I am going to let Elena go." His brother's eyes light up at that. "But don't you dare think it's for you. I'm doing it for her, because as much as you would love to deny it, I care about her. I want her to be happy. You, I don't give a shit about."

"That's not true." Stefan whispers, secretly hurt.

Damon blinks, fighting back the sudden flood of memories from their childhood.

_Stefan in his crib, chubby hand reaching out for Damon. Stefan falling off his horse, Damon picking him up. Damon crying when their mother died, Stefan comforting him. Bonded in blood. Brothers._

He wants more than anything to hate Stefan. But he can't. Because as much as it kills him and as much as he would never admit it, he loves his brother. He's suddenly overcome with memories and he closes his eyes, willing them to go away.

Moments from Stefan's birth flash before his mind like a kaleidoscope of memories and images. He remembers the feeling of becoming a brother, the overwhelming sense of loyalty, protectiveness. He remembers peeking into Stefan's crib and thinking how tiny he was, how small and helpless. Images of his father's abuse had flashed before his eyes; fists and kicks and blood and bruises. He'd been seven years old and yet he'd felt such an overwhelming feeling of attachment, of devotion and duty.

He'd never let his father touch this little boy, he'd vowed. He'd protect him, stand by him, be there for him as long as he lived. And at that moment, Stefan's chubby little hand reached out for him and grabbed his finger with a tiny fist and Damon knew he'd do anything for him, to protect him. Because he loved him. Because he was his brother.

"I don't want things to end like this." Stefan's voice interrupts his memory. "In spite of everything Damon... you're my brother."

Damon remains silent, walking over to his brother with a newfound sense of freedom.

"I'm leaving in a few hours. I won't be at the wedding. I won't bother you anymore." He tells him as Stefan stands up and looks at him with confused eyes.

Stefan opens his mouth to say something but he closes it when he sees Damon's dismissive expression. He nods once, curtly, understanding that he won't get any heartfelt speeches—that Damon isn't a brother you can lean on or count on—that letting him go is his own way of showing he cares.

He walks over to the door and grabs the handle, but before he can open it, he turns around.

"Damon..." He starts, before he's cut off.

"Be happy, brother. Goodbye." Damon's voice is hard, a cold warning, but Stefan knows there's affection behind his actions.

And as he walks out, Damon stares after him, before grabbing a pen and paper and beginning to write a letter to Elena.

* * *

When Damon's letter finds itself in Bonnie's hands, she doesn't know what to do.

She reads it over and over again... but his beautiful words offer her no instructions or advice on what she should do. She sits down on shaky legs, gripping the paper in her hands.

It'd been left in Elena's room, delicately placed on the dressing table, and she wishes now that she had ignored her curiosity. But she hadn't. She'd seen the envelope addressed to Elena and she'd hastily shoved it in her purse before following her friend to the church. She shouldn't have picked it up. She shouldn't have opened it. And she most definitely shouldn't have read it.

But she did.

And now she has to deal with the consequences.

Should she hide it, pretend it never existed and let Elena dive headfirst into what might be the biggest mistake of her life?

No. That would be wrong. Damon poured his heart out in his letter... this letter intended for Elena. It would be wrong to never give it to her.

So she should give it to her, confuse her even more and watch as she agonizes over which Salvatore brother she's truly meant to be with.

No. Stefan's good for her, Elena needs to move on. This letter will just break her even more. She shouldn't give it to her.

Bonnie huffs out loud, her frustration mounting. She buries her face in her hands, moaning and groaning. She has absolutely no idea what to do.

"Bonnie?" Elena's soft voice interrupts her thoughts. "Are you alright?"

She smoothes out the invisible creases in her bridesmaid's dress before she stands up, discreetly placing the note behind her back. She waves her friend in and when Elena stands before her, Bonnie's mouth falls open.

In her strapless, floor length white gown, she looks magnificent.

"Elena..." Bonnie breathes and Elena nervously fiddles with her hair that is tied into an elaborate bun thanks to Caroline. "You look beautiful."

A small blush rises to warm her cheeks. "Thank you."

"And yes, I'm fine." Bonnie answers her previous query. "Question is... are you?"

Elena bites her lip before exhaling slowly and ungracefully throwing herself into the nearest chair. She huffs, straightening out the veil that's placed on the top of her head as she looks at her friend with a mix of exasperation and embarrassment.

"I love Stefan, I do." She starts. "But I don't know if I can promise to be with him forever... when Damon's sitting there, watching."

Bonnie bites her lip guiltily.

"I just wish I knew how he felt." Elena shrugs softly. "I feel so torn, I don't know what to do."

Bonnie watches her closely and when she sees the beginning of tears swelling in her best friend's eyes, she knows what she must do. Elena will always be empty without Damon. She may have ruined it before and now this is her chance to make things right... her redemption.

"Elena... Damon won't have to watch you marry Stefan."

Elena sniffs. "What do you mean?"

Bonnie holds her arm out.

"Damon's gone."

And with that, she hands her the letter.

* * *

**Song: Against all Odds by Phil Collins [Heartbreaking song]**

**A/N: I was reading over this story and I found myself hating the Bonnie I had created. So I decided to make her think she had interfered with Damon and Elena's fate enough... that by giving Elena Damon's letter, she was seeking redemption for getting in the way and telling Caroline. Hope that makes sense.**

**There's a little quote from 'Shadow Souls' in here somewhere, well done if you spotted it ;) **

**Well, I decided to merge the last two chapters into one so if you want to see how/if their happy ending plays out, review! **

**xxx**


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: There's an authors note at the bottom, so I'll just let you get on and read this last chapter ;) **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Thinking of You**

Chapter Sixteen

_Woman, I can hardly express_  
_My mixed emotions at my thoughtlessness _  
_After all, I'm forever in your debt_  
_And woman, I will try express_  
_My inner feelings and thankfulness_  
_For showing me the meaning of success _

_Woman please let me explain _  
_I never meant to cause you sorrow or pain _  
_So let me tell you again and again and again_  
_I love you_  
_Now and forever. _

"What do you mean he's gone?" Elena turns the letter over in her hands, examining it, "What is this?" She asks, a horrible sense of foreboding settling over her.

Bonnie bites her lip, worried that she may not be doing the right thing.

But she figures she's meddled enough, she's caused enough problems… it's Elena's choice now.

She steps back. "I found it on your desk when I went into your room." She says, remembering how she had been looking for Elena before realizing she'd already left for the church.

"It was like this?" Elena waves the folded paper, a small frown beginning to form.

"No." Bonnie whispers guiltily. "It was in an envelope."

"An envelope addressed to me?"

"Yes."

"So you opened it even though it was addressed to me… and then you read it?" Anger seeps into her voice and Bonnie takes another step back.

"I'm sorry." She tells her. "I guess my curiosity got the better of me. I'm sorry." She apologizes again. "But if I hadn't have found it, you would never know how he really feels."

"He? Who? This is... this is from Damon?" Elena asks, her heart rate increasing at the mention of his name.

Bonnie nods slowly. "Yes. You need to read it. I hate Damon, you know that. After everything he's done, I nearly didn't give it to you. But this isn't about me or my dislike for him. It's clear that he's crazy about you. And this time, it's entirely your choice. You need to be sure that you made this decision by yourself, with no input from me or anyone else." She squeezes both of her friend's hands in silent reassurance. "I'll just wait outside." She whispers, giving her a comforting kiss on the cheek, before she walks outside, closing the door behind her.

Elena exhales shakily, holding the folded piece of paper with shaky hands. She closes her eyes, preparing herself... before she slowly unfolds the letter and is met with Damon's beautiful penmanship.

_Elena,_

_We both know I'm not exactly one for Oscar-worthy speeches, so I'll keep this short._

_I know I promised I would never leave you again and I really hate myself for doing this, but I can't stay here anymore._

_Please forgive me, but I can't watch you marry my brother._

_By the time you read this, I'll probably be gone—and you probably won't see me for a while. I hope we do meet again someday in our future and I know when we do, you'll belong to Stefan and I'll just have to live—well, unlive—with that._

_It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, Elena—letting go of you. But I know it's for the best. For once, I'm thinking with my black, black heart._

_I want to tell you that I'm sorry. Yes, you read correctly. I, Damon Salvatore, am apologizing. For everything I've done, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything with Vicki, with Caroline. I'm sorry for everything I've done to Stefan. I'm sorry for making you cry. I'm sorry for making you think you were worse than me. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry, Elena... and I hope one day in the future you can learn to forgive me._

_Before you go on with the show per se, I have one more thing to tell you._

_Here it is. The big one._

_I love you._

_Of course I do._

_I've always loved you._

_You have no idea how much I wish I could go back and tell you that. I can't believe how hard it was for me then; it's so simple now._

_But I guess we missed our moment._

_You're everything to me._

_But I was reminded today that the greatest act of love is sacrifice. It's what Stefan did for you, burying his feelings so he could be a good friend and help pick up the pieces of my mistake._

_I love you Elena and I always will... but if what you need is for me to let go, then I'm going to do it._

_I'm not bitter anymore... and if we do, by chance, see each other sometime in our future—whether it be two years, two decades, two centuries—I will smile at you and remember how you changed me and the unfaltering love you gave me._

_Be happy Elena. I want that with all my heart._

_Yours eternally,_

_Damon._

A sob escapes her lips as she quickly brings a hand to her mouth. She sits down on shaky legs, her hands trembling as she grips the letter tightly. She inhales shakily, closing her eyes as she tries to control her tears. But they flow uncontained as they warm her cheeks, dripping onto her silk dress and ruining her makeup.

She skims over the letter at least thirteen times before she stops at one sentence.

_I love you._

She reads over it, again and again, committing it to memory until she can't doubt it anymore. A dry sob rips from her throat as a realization hits her. He loves her. He really loves her... and now it's too late.

She turns around, glancing in the mirror and letting another cry fall from her lips at the sight of her reflection. There are tears running down her face, her chest is heaving with labored breaths... and yet she looks more excited than she has in months. There's a bright blush tinting her cheeks and her neck, a sparkle in her eye and she can't calm down her racing heart.

All because Damon _loves_ her.

She shakes off the feeling—knowing that this can't change anything, but wishing more than anything that it could. She's marrying Stefan. Damon is gone. She has to deal with that.

She closes her eyes, scrunching them up tightly as she brings the note to her face and scrunches it in her hands, leaning her forehead against her fist and sobbing freely.

She stays like that for at least ten minutes before there's a knock on the door.

"Elena?" Bonnie's voice flows from behind the door.

Elena's eyes widen as she quickly—ungracefully—wipes her snotty nose with the back of her hand.

"It's time." Caroline's voice pipes in, excited and high-pitched.

Elena places a hand to her heart, trying to steady her breathing as she shakily places the note on the table and stands up, smoothing out her dress and looking at her reflection with brave, determined eyes.

"Here we go." She breathes.

And she walks over to the door, secretly terrified that she's about to give herself to the wrong brother.

* * *

She walks down the aisle on trembling legs, her gaze frozen and unblinking—she's terrified that if she blinks, the tears will spill over. All eyes are on her as the traditional music echoes around the church, but she can't hear it. She can't hear anything.

John Gilbert's arm is tight around her own and she thinks that's just another thing that's wrong. He shouldn't be doing this. He isn't her father.

Before she knows it, she's standing in-front of an affectionate Stefan and an expectant audience including everyone she holds dear and it's all too much. She can't think. She can barely breathe, Damon's words swimming around in her head.

Stefan takes her hand and his fingers don't wrap around hers perfectly and his hand is clammy and kind of sweaty and nothing like the smooth, flawless skin she's become so accustomed to.

She shakes her head.

She can do this.

She smiles shakily, mouthing a quick 'hello' and gripping onto both of his hands.

The reverend says a cheery greeting that Elena drowns out, before he reads part of the sonnet she'd personally chosen.

"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken."

She hears a few mumbles about the beauty of the speech and she closes her eyes, trying to hide her despair. They don't mean anything to her anymore. The words don't offer her the hope they once did. Love has spun her; it's abused and consumed her. It has offered her no comfort and it's slowly, but surely, beaten her down. Sometimes she feels like she's the woman who can have everything _but_ love. Because her soul mate is dark, coldly distant and detached. With him, love is... well, in some ways it's everything... but it's also pain, heartache and disappointment. And those are always good things to avoid.

She tunes out the reverend's voice, uncomfortable with the tone that is filled with emotion, when really she knows he couldn't care less. He doesn't know her. If he knew the blasphemy-ridden thoughts running through her mind, he wouldn't even bother to _pretend_ he cares.

It's only when Stefan's about to say his vows that she comes back to Earth.

"Elena..." He starts and the love in his eyes make her feel sick, "I'm not very good with speeches, so I guess I'll borrow some of my favorite words." He takes her hands and she looks up at him with wide eyes and pursed lips. "Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous. Love is never boastful or conceited. It is never rude or selfish. It does not take offense. It is not resentful." He smiles warmly and the tears that are brimming on her lips are tears of guilt, not happiness. "I know this not because I've read it or because people have said it... but because I've seen it, because you've given it to me. I hope to give it to you, forever."

Elena lets a tear roll down her cheek, closing her eyes and pursing her lips.

"Elena..." The reverend's voice causes her eyes to fly open. "Your vows." His voice is soft, quietly probing her, and when she remains silent, she feels Caroline and Bonnie bear a hole in her back.

_Sad...lost parents...his name is Stefan!...older brother...want to..._

Elena shakes her head, closing her eyes and composing herself.

_Want you...always...he's gone...Italy...can't stay here...don't love you..._

"Stefan," She starts, trying to ignore the thousands of voices in her head.

_Daniel...jealous...missed you...left me...waited for you...loved you..._

The hundreds of eyes on her cause her to lose her breath and when she sees Stefan frown in worriment, she swallows nervously.

_Come back...feel alive...obligation...never hurt you...do anything for you...stay with me..._

Damon's voice echoes in her mind and as she opens her mouth, she is horrified to find nothing comes out. The people around her begin to shuffle anxiously and when she hears Caroline hiss her name, she closes her eyes in defeat.

_Not a toy...crawl for you...kill for you...never leave you...keep you...mine...my girl...the one...love you...always...eternally...MrsDamonSalvatore..._

Then there's a rush and her head floods.

"I'm sorry." She blurts out. She wants to go home. She wants Damon. She wants him right now. She suddenly misses him with such a force it makes her body hurt.

Stefan frowns in panic. "Elena..." Her chest's heaving. She's scaring him.

"I'm so sorry, Stefan." She whispers, her voice catching. "I can't do this." She glances down, pulling the diamond ring off her finger and placing it gently in his hands, curling his fingers over it.

He looks absolutely broken.

A sob escapes her lips as she turns around and runs, lifting her long dress and ignoring Caroline's cries behind her.

She makes her way down the aisle, not hearing the whispers and snickers around her. She hears Damon's voice in her mind as he reads his letter to her, his words beautiful in her ears.

Now that she's chosen Damon, will his love be something she can live with? Will he let her fall? Will he sit back and watch with a smile on his face as he tears her world apart again? The thought makes her stomach churn. Will their love burn too bright, too fast? She doesn't know. But she _does_ know that she's not satisfied with Stefan's patient, quiet and sensible love anymore. She wants true love—messy and uncontainable and wild—she won't deny herself that any longer.

Love is terrifying, she thinks as she leaves everyone in the church behind.

And she's afraid, but giddy with adoring determination, and as she flings the church doors open, her mind is set on one thing...

Damon—her forever.

* * *

Damon lies on the couch.

The howl of the wind sounds like the crash of drumbeats in his sensitive ears as he screws his eyes shut, listening to the rain pelting against the windows.

A suitcase full of his things lays by the door and he takes an unnecessary breath, ready to leave Elena's life completely—to let her go once and for all.

But the house is quiet and his mind keeps wandering to awful things... Elena saying "I do."... Stefan's hands on Elena... Elena's hands on Stefan...

His stomach is sick.

He rubs the eyes that are stinging for sleep, it won't come. Trying is useless.

He stands up, preparing himself to leave, when out of the window he sees Elena's car pull up on the drive.

He frowns, confused, as he walks over to the door but before he can open it, there's a loud pounding and it sounds like someone's trying to break it down.

He swings the door open and suddenly she's there, heaving and sobbing; drenched in her wedding dress and smiling a smile he hasn't seen for six years.

He blinks. He can't move.

Through her sobs, he can barely hear her speak.

"Thank god you're here!" She cries. "I thought I might have missed you." A small hiccup leaves her throat before she looks at him with teary eyes. "I couldn't do it." Tears run down her cheeks and he stares at her, unblinking. "I couldn't marry him. I was—I was standing there at the altar and I... I couldn't do it, Damon!"

He hears her choked sobs become louder and when she hurls herself on him, he catches her.

Her arms wrap tightly around his neck as her legs twine around his waist and the suddenness of her move makes his knees start to give. She clings to him so tightly she doesn't even budge when he reaches one arm out to slam the door shut. He feels their chests pressed against each other as her hot tears dampen the skin of his neck, soaking his shirt... and he can't think. He can't figure out what this means.

He slowly lowers them to the floor, right there, in-front of the door. Her legs stay wrapped around his waist as she sits on his lap, her face pressed into the space between his neck and shoulder.

"I guess you got my note."

"I got your note." She wails, affirming his statement against his skin. "Did you mean it, Damon?" She asks, terrified, her voice muffled. "Did you really mean it?"

He pulls back to see her face. The dress tangles around their legs and he can't think about how beautiful she looks right now because his mind is set on other things. He holds her face in his hands, not at all gentle. He hangs on for dear life.

"Every word." He stares into her teary eyes and she sobs, sending him a watery smile.

They stay like that for what feels like hours, her sobbing and laughing and him just staring at her.

"Kiss me." She chokes out after what seems like an eternity.

He presses his open mouth to hers, hard, taking control. Too quickly she tears her lips away and plants soft, frantic kisses all over his face, her hands fumbling around, looking for his. He grabs her wandering hands, entwining their fingers and noticing her engagement ring is gone.

"What does this mean?" Damon asks, his blue eyes sparkling with a happiness he hasn't felt in years.

"It means... this is it." She grabs his face, looking into his eyes with a hard determination. "This is where I wanna be. With you. I don't want to mess this up anymore."

"I'm never letting you go again." He says fiercely, his hands pulling away the veil that's now practically hanging off her head. She laughs under her breath as he throws it to the side, as if it's infected, and begins removing the pins that dig into her skull. He gently throws them away too, until her damp hair is hanging loose around her shoulders.

"It's not going to be easy." She warns. "It's going to be really hard. And we're gonna have to work at it everyday. I need to trust that you won't hurt me again."

"Never." He insists, smoothing her thick hair. "I love you."

She cries out loud, the words sounding like a symphony in her ears. How long has she waited for him to say those words? Six years? Eight years? Her whole life?

"I love you too." She leans her forehead against his and he breaths happily against her mouth. "This is it, okay? You and me."

He nods.

Then he's all over her.

Kissing her everywhere, neck, lips, cheek, nose, ears, eyelids; his hands roam all over. It's so familiar and yet so far away at the same time. He pulls at the zipper of her dress, determined to remove all clothing, to feel her skin against his again. She laughs at his impatience and they explore each other all over, looking for any changes. He can't get enough of her and she comes at him with the same desperate force, tugging at the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over his head, her hands roaming over his hard muscles.

"God, I've missed you." She whispers.

He smiles against her lips and this time when he kisses her it's hard and desperate, all tongues and teeth; there's nothing gentle about this. He's pulling at her dress again, frustrated and desperate, and when he sees the elaborate corset design, he feels like ripping it to pieces. She can't help the giggle that escapes her as he growls, lifting the heavy material over her head with his vampire strength and speed.

And then she's there, sitting on his lap in the underwear she'd put on in preparation for her wedding night... and it's then that the guilt kicks in.

"No, look at me." He grabs her chin, forcing her to meet his scorching eyes. "Don't feel bad about this. We're finally here. We belong together. I love you." He kisses her over and over. "I love you so much."

She exhales sharply, kissing him again as he whispers his love for her against her skin.

She starts to undo the buttons on his jeans and when he uses his vampire speed to remove them, she wastes no time in placing her hands down his underwear, her fingers gripping him, causing him to hiss in want.

He yanks on her underwear furiously, pulling them down her smooth legs and reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. She breaths into his mouth, silently urging him to hurry, as she pushes his chest firmly, smirking as he falls back in surprise and she climbs over him, straddling him. His hands wrap in her hair, grasping her to him, and his eyes close as their tongues dance together.

Her hips start to rock back and forth on him and he growls, his eyes on her face.

"Now." She moans, pulling his boxers down and discarding them. She takes her place back on top of him, her breath releasing in staggered pants.

She rubs herself against him.

"Elena." His voice comes out grittier than expected. She doesn't answer. Instead, she crashes down on him, harder than she probably should have but it's been so long to her and she's _missed_ him. The air leaves her lungs in a single half breath, and then she's silent.

He growls—deep and animalistic.

She tightly clamps around him, much like the first time all those years ago. Her hands rest on his chest, her nails digging into his skin as she moans out his favorite sounds.

"I love you." She groans, tears swimming in her eyes. His arm reaches up, wrapping around her waist as he sits up, never leaving her body.

Her mouth falls open in a silent pant as the new position causes him to hit a spot that sends her gasping. She throws herself against his arm, arching her back as he grips her tighter. He can't see her face, just her body moving and gyrating above him.

He feels the change in her body, knows every little sign that shows she's close. It delights him that he can still read her like a book. He starts moving harder, faster, almost violently thrusting into her, his free hand resting on the skin covering her erratically beating heart. Without anymore warning, she cries out, clenching around him as he feels her body spasm around his.

Then, he spills everything into her.

All of his anguish and pain, his loneliness and anger, the tears he could never bring himself to cry for her and all of the love he's been harboring for over six years—he gives to her. He wants her to take it all, take it from him, heal him.

She collapses with him, her face buried in his neck as he watches her chest rise and fall with every breath.

"Elena..." He whispers, kissing her swollen lips. She smiles up at him, adoringly, and he leans his forehead against hers, "You're my life." He tells her, raw passion in his voice. "_Ti amo, tesoro mio._"

After that, they don't say anything.

Elena buries her head in his neck and he watches the miracle of her just being with him.

The heartache is over—they're resurrected—and Damon doesn't need any more games of sex or seduction to keep interested.

He just needs Elena, by his side.

For all eternity.

* * *

**Song: Woman by John Lennon**

**A/N: Well, that's all folks. I can't believe it's actually finished, I'm relieved but sad at the same time. Thank you so much for all the support, I never would've thought I'd get such a positive feedback on this! **

**So what did you think of the ending? Think I did the right thing bringing them together? You know, I thought about having her marry Stefan and let him go but after what's been happening in the show recently, I just couldn't bring myself to ruin Damon's happy ending :) **

**Just a fluffy epilogue left, and then it's goodbye to 'Thinking of You' **

**Thank you all, again.**

**xxxx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you so much for all the support, I've had a crazy amount of fun over the last 17 chapters.**

**Now did someone order some cheddary fluffness? ;)**

* * *

**Thinking of You - The Epilogue **

**5 Years Later**

It's been a good 5 years, but also an incredibly hard 5 years. There's been a ton of guilt on Elena's part—something that infuriates Damon more than he would admit. She spent the first couple of years trying to make it up to Stefan and became furious with Damon when he in-turn refused to apologize or make amends with Caroline.

It's taken a while, but all in all, they're okay.

They aren't a conventional couple—their passionate, uncontainable personalities cause them to fight more than what's normal—but Elena's secure in the knowledge that it's always better second time round.

Bonnie thinks they have sex too much—way more than what's healthy—but they were parted for so long, Damon can't get enough of her, and neither one of them pays any attention to the disapproving witch. Things are different this time—there's more freeness and security in her touches, less jealousy and possessiveness in his. She says those three little words much more than he does, but that doesn't make it any less true for him. Instead, Damon does little things to show her he cares—like showering her with affection and letting her snuggle up to him after sex and making an effort to make sure he puts the lid on the toothpaste because he knows how much that annoys her.

Some things haven't changed though. She still thinks he's a self-absorbed, arrogant ass... but she wouldn't have it any other way—she loves him, unconditionally. He's himself around her and he makes no apologies. He still gets jealous sometimes and occasionally she'll get frightened and think he's going to leave her again... but then he scolds her for being so insecure and holds her until every trace of doubt is wiped away from her mind.

She hates how he buys her expensive gifts all the time but she doesn't send them away or demand he take them back because sometimes she thinks he _needs_ this. Because deep down, she knows it's because he still feels guilty... like he has to make up for hurting her, even though she's told him countless times she's forgiven him.

It's the little things he does that make her love him. Things like making an effort to be nice to Jenna and Jeremy, even though she knows he hates being around any human that isn't herself. Things like comforting her instead of walking away when she lashes out at him in angry despair... because really, he knows she's terrified of being alone again. He always tells her she's beautiful and sometimes little things like that make her heart swell.

That being said, it's not like he's become a soft and cuddly carbon copy of St. Stefan. No. They fight passionately, wildly, and he still gets so angry to the point where he has to walk away and she's left sobbing, wondering if he's ever going to come back. But he always does. And he always picks her up, kisses her forehead and tells her he's sorry; that he'll never leave again.

He's been making an effort to patch things up with Bonnie; something Elena loves him for. In some ways, he owes everything to her. The fact that she gave Elena the letter is the reason he's the happiest he's been in decades. It took a while, but eventually the two reconciled and are slowly making their way to becoming... _friends_. Damon's relationship with Caroline, however, is still on the mend.

"Elena, baby." He chuckles, chasing her through the boarding house, humoring her by keeping his pace human when realistically he could have her pinned under him in less than a second.

She whips round, her expression hard and stony. "Don't you laugh at me, Damon Salvatore." She hisses, before turning around so quickly, her brown hair slaps him in the face and he blinks, amused. "I am so angry at you right now."

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed." His voice is dry, sarcastic, but he can't help the small smile that curls the corners of his mouth.

She sends him a death glare before stamping up the stairs, throwing her scarf from around her neck in the process. She's so furious she can't even appreciate the hilarity of the situation when it whacks him in the face.

She storms into the bedroom they now share. Stefan moved out at the beginning of their relationship, not able to sit around in the same house while they were together. He visits them from time to time with his new-found acceptance, but they're still not exactly at the point where they can all sit down and have tea and crackers.

She throws her keys on the bedside table, kicking her killer heels off.

Damon remains calm as he tiredly shuts the door. "_Amore_—"

"—oh no you don't." She points an accusing finger towards him. "Now is not the time for your _Italian charm_." She rolls her eyes, storming over to the wardrobe and throwing the doors open. "You said it. You _know_ you said it."

"Well, I didn't mean it."

She turns around, one hand on the door frame. "You don't even know what you said!" She exclaims, before shoving her head back into the huge wardrobe.

"I thought you said I did know what I said?" He raises an eyebrow, confused.

She inhales dramatically, trying to compose herself. "Well you don't." She shouts. "Do you?"

He tips his head to the side, completely confused. "No." He admits and she throws her arms up in frustration. "But I'm very sorry." He tries to send her one of his seductive, cheeky smirks but she rolls her eyes—something that he makes her do often.

She takes a hanger from the rail. "How can you be sorry for something you don't even know you said? God, I hate when you do this! You pretend everything you say means nothing when really it means something, it's not just something for you to say, nothing always means something!" She rambles.

Damon blinks. "What?"

His voice is blank with confusion and he ducks when she throws the hanger at him.

"You told my brother you wanted me to become a vampire!" She shouts, her screech making his ears hurt. She turns back to the wardrobe and has to grab another hanger to substitute the one she'd thrown at his head. She uses it to hang up her leather jacket. Her angry hands then try to lift her top off, but her fingers are clumsy, causing it to get caught around her neck. She struggles for a few moments, grunting and groaning in frustration under the fabric.

_Very sexy,_ Damon thinks with a smirk.

When she finally manages to pull it over her head, her eyes are wild, her chest heaving and her hair sticking up all over the place. She haphazardly tosses the top on the floor, huffing as she does so.

"You said you wanted me to be a vampire but that I'm not ready!" She rants, arms flailing about as Damon leans against the wall casually. "You might as well have said that I _like_ being a freaking cougar!"

"Well I am starting to see a few grey hairs..." He teases and he can't help his smirk when her eyes widen and she leaps to the mirror, worriedly checking the roots of her thick brown hair.

"This is not funny!" She wails, once she's realized she'd taken the bait. "You told my family I didn't want to be a vampire!"

"I didn't!" He chuckles at her distress. "I didn't say that, I just said you wanted to wait."

She rushes over to the bed, pulling back the covers and fluffing pillows, doing anything to keep herself from punching him. "Which means I don't want to be one right now!"

"Exactly!" He sighs in relief, glad she's starting to see things his way.

"Right." She turns to him, eyes as wide as her mouth, as if he's done some hugely terrible thing and suddenly he's confused again.

"Hang on, I'm confused." He frowns and when he takes a step towards her, she lifts the pillow in a silent warning, threatening him—daring him to come closer, "Why am I in trouble here?"

"Because!" She explodes, trying to reach behind her to undo her bra but she's shaking from the force of her anger and when Damon lewdly offers to do it for her, she give up, grabs one of her heels and throws it at him.

He uses his vampire reflexes to dodge the weapon and she carries on with her rant. "Because you want me to be a vampire and I didn't know that so I've spent the last five years thinking we're doing okay but then I find out that you think there's something missing."

"What are you talking about?" He frowns, his voice suddenly soft and melodic. It doesn't comfort her—in-fact it causes frustrated tears to spring to her eyes. She walks into the connecting bathroom, leaning over the sink and grabbing her toothbrush. She quickly shoves it in her mouth and begins to brush furiously.

"I know what you're really saying even when you don't say it." She says, but the brush muffles her voice to the point where it's almost indiscernible and he shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

He appears behind her, his reflection flawless in the mirror.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to become a vampire?" He asks, wanting a straight answer.

She spits, rinsing her mouth. She looks at his reflection in the mirror, sniffing back her tears. "Do _you_ want me to become a vampire?"

"Yes." _Because every day that passes with you as a human, I risk the chance of losing you._

She blinks, tears swimming on her lids. "See?" She croaks, turning around and going to brush past him, but he grabs her arm.

He looks down at her, their lips inches apart. "See _what?_" He frowns, frustrated and confused.

"Everyday that goes by with me human is one more day I get closer to losing you forever." Her voice catches. "But I'm terrified. I'm scared of not being able to see my family because all I'll want to do is _eat_ them! I'm scared of never having children or a normal life. Everything would be so much better if—"

"—if you weren't with me?" He asks angrily, bitterly, before turning his head abruptly.

She sighs. "No." Her voice is a whisper now she's calmed down. "That's not what I meant. Sure, things would be... _easier_ if I weren't with you." He turns back to her and her watery eyes cause a twinge in his heart. "But not _better_. Definitely not better. Damon, you're my reason for existing."

A small smirk curls the corners of his lips. "How very _Twilight_." He drawls.

But she remains serious.

"You said that to Jeremy because you're mad at me for not wanting to turn yet. And because I'm all old now—"

"—you're hardly _old_." He rolls his eyes at her dramatic speech. "You're 29. I'm 186."

"You know what I mean." She bows her head. "It's because I'm always insecure and needy and you'd rather be with someone like Isobel or Kelly Donovan—someone who's not clingy... someone who's actually fun and worth spending an eternity with. That's what you're really saying, isn't it?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Now technically Kelly Donovan _is_ old."

She half-screams, half-sobs in frustration as she wrenches herself from his grasp and throws herself onto the bed dramatically.

"You're bored." She whines, the insecure part of her flaring up. "I'm no fun anymore. You don't find me sexy anymore. Why don't you just admit it?"

He's kneeling in front of her in less than a second.

"You're beautiful, Elena." His voice is seductive, sexy. "You know that."

She shakes her head and stands up, walking over to the wall and leaning against it.

"What you're really saying..." The first tear rolls down her cheek and he stands up, watching her with curious eyes, "...is that you're not happy with me."

His smirk slowly drops and suddenly his face is completely serious... hurt, even.

"That's not what I'm saying." His voice is low, disbelieving. "That's not what I'm saying at all. Is that what _you're_ saying?"

She bites her trembling lip. "I'm saying this isn't the life you wanted. You spent a century doing all these crazy, _fun_ things and now you're stuck here—tied to me. What if this is it, Damon? End of story."

"Well what other story do you want?" He exclaims, his brow furrowed in anger and disbelief.

She pushes past him but before she can get anywhere, he's holding her arm in an iron grip. She looks up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, as he grabs her and holds her tightly to him. He looks furiously into her eyes.

"What do you want?" He asks angrily, shaking her slightly, as she stares up at him, a small frown line between her eyebrows.

"I don't know." She whispers, causing his heart to drop.

His gaze hardens. "Damn it, Elena." He hisses. "What do you _want?_" He repeats, this time with more urgency. "I know what I want, because it's standing right in-front of me. Do you know what you want? Because you better tell me if I'm not it."

She notices the warning in his voice and her teary eyes become stonier.

"Or what?" She asks slowly, incredulously, her teeth gritted. "You gonna leave?"

He wants to scream in frustration. So _that's_ what this is about. How many times does he have to tell her? How many years does he have to spend trying to convince her stupid insecure brain that he's never letting her go again?

"Well?" She demands after he says nothing. She pushes at his chest, fear bubbling to the surface. "If you want to leave, _leave! _I'm not stopping you. Just go. Get out of here!"

When he takes her blows and says nothing, her insecure, needy heart takes that as a sign that he actually _wants_ to go. Fear kicks at her stomach like a mule and he can't think of what to say to comfort her.

"Maybe I'll just call Stefan."

His eyes darken. "Don't push me, Elena." He hisses through gritted teeth.

"Well clearly you want to leave!" She shouts.

She hits at his unyielding chest, literally pushing him away, and his own insecurity is dragged up kicking and screaming. "Do you want me to leave?" He asks, stupidly wondering if _that's_ in-fact what she's trying to say.

They're both insecure idiots.

She crosses her arms. "Well yeah, why don't you? Seeing as you're so good at it."

It's a low blow—bringing up the past and referring to the departure that nearly destroyed them both all those years ago—and she immediately regrets saying it when she practically _sees_ the walls beginning to creep up around him.

He pushes her away. "Fuck this." He mutters under his breath, throwing his arms up and turning around to walk away.

He walks to the door, murmuring in Italian along the way and it's ironic that the only thing she can understand is, "_Vaffanculo!_" which he spits furiously.

"No!" She contradicts in a scream. "Fuck _you!_ In English!"

Then the door slams and she throws herself on the bed, sobbing into a pillow.

Time stops.

It takes approximately seventy eight seconds—not that she's counting or anything—for him to walk back inside and find her like that.

"Can I come back now, love?" He whispers at the doorway, a soft smile free of any sarcasm or arrogance on his face.

She lifts her head as a half-sob, half-laugh falls from her lips. She jumps up, running to him and throwing herself on him, her legs wrapping themselves around his strong waist and her arms finding their way in his hair. She peppers kisses all over his face as he walks them over to the bed.

"I'm sorry." She cries quietly, kissing his mouth. "I'm so sorry." She repeats it over and over.

He kisses her deeply, expressing everything he can't bring himself to say with his actions, "_I'm_ sorry, baby." He tangles his fingers in her hair, anchoring her face to his. "I'm sorry I said the wrong thing to Jeremy."

She shakes her head, kissing every square inch of his face as he lowers them to the bed, her straddling his lap.

"It's okay. _I'm_ sorry." They both laugh at that word again. "I just get so scared sometimes..." She admits in a breathy sigh, "...that one day you're gonna wake up and realize I'm not enough for you."

He kisses her mouth, "_Stupido_." He rolls his eyes and she nods; half-sighing, half-laughing against his lips.

"I get so _cranky_... scared. Bonnie thinks it's because I love you too much." She leans her forehead against his and his fingers are crafty and warm as they sneak up her bare back. "She still thinks it won't last."

He rolls his eyes. "Just because I corrupted you with sex and charm."

She chuckles against his skin when she buries her face in his neck. He closes his eyes, tipping his head back in pleasure, when her tongue traces circles on his collarbone. She lifts her head, brown eyes meeting pale blue.

"I don't want to make any mistakes this time, Damon." She whispers and he can see the worry in her eyes.

He tenderly kisses her eyelids, her nose. "Elena." Her name is a breathy sigh from his lips; like a prayer. "We're not a mistake just because you're not ready to turn yet. I'll wait as long as it takes. And Bonnie doesn't know what she's talking about—we _are_ gonna last."

"How can you be so sure?" She asks, her insecurity getting the better of her.

He smiles, brushing a stray strand of brown hair from her forehead. His hand remains tangled in her locks. "Because I can't imagine spending forever with anyone but you."

She exhales against his lips, stunned at how he can always make such short statements so poetic and loving. "I'm sorry." She whispers. "I see people getting bored and getting divorces and I just get so afraid that when you turn me, you'll tire of me and I'll be left stranded—having to spend the rest of eternity alone... watching Jenna and Jeremy and everyone I care about die... for no reason."

"_Tesoro mio_, things are different now." She knows he's referring to his departure all those years ago and she shakes her head, cursing herself for being such an insecure mess. He holds her tightly to him as she buries her face in his neck.

He makes her look at him, the intensity in his eyes shining. "And Elena? You've got to stop throwing the past in my face, telling me to leave." She bites her trembling lip and nods. "I'm not going anywhere." He tells her with an infectious smile and she grins back, comforted by the truth of it.

"I know, baby." She kisses his nose. "_Ti amo_." She whispers playfully, a huge smile on her face, as he raises his eyebrows.

"I thought _I_ was the Italian one." He teases, before kissing her deeply. "I love you too, sweetheart."

They stay like that for a little while, just kissing, until she feels the hot pangs of desire warm her belly and liquid heat coarse through her veins.

He senses her urgency and chuckles against her lips, letting her push him back on the bed.

She climbs on top of him, hips grinding impatiently, and when he trails his hands down her body he purposely strays from the areas that are desperate for his touch.

She exhales in frustration.

"Maybe my next _vampire lover_ won't tease me so much." She taunts against his lips, kissing him softly.

He raises an eyebrow, "You're next vamp—" He shakes his head at her craziness, "Come here, you." He growls, nibbling at her neck playfully, revelling in her squeals of delight when he flips them over and she's staring up at him happily.

"I'm sorry I get so crazy sometimes."

He rolls his eyes. It doesn't matter. He loves her, just the way she is, no matter what.

This is it. This is where he wants to be.

"Just shut up and kiss me."

* * *

**A/N: I know Damon's a bit out of character but I thought I'd end it with a bit of (well okay a lot of) fluff. God knows we need it after last night's episode -.-**

**And if anyone has a particular VD couple they'd like me to write a story about, let me know in a review :) **

**Thank you all, so much, again. **

**The End. **


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